


The Devil You Know

by ConstantWriter85



Category: Once Upon a Time (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Vampire, Autopsies, Blood Drinking, Blood and Gore, Blood and Injury, Blood and Violence, Crazy Mad Hatter | Jefferson, Curses, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Eventual Smut, F/M, Fairy Tale Curses, Falling In Love, Fluff, Fluff and Smut, Friends to Lovers, Human/Vampire Relationship, Hurt/Comfort, Love at First Sight, Medical Procedures, Medical Trauma, POV Mad Hatter | Jefferson, Sad Mad Hatter | Jefferson, Smut, True Love, True Love's Kiss, Vampire Bites, Vampire Sex, Vampire Slayer(s), Vampires, Whump, Witch Curses, Witches, vampire!Jefferson
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-01
Updated: 2020-10-31
Packaged: 2021-03-06 16:21:30
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 10
Words: 39,399
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26231845
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ConstantWriter85/pseuds/ConstantWriter85
Summary: It’s Halloween Night, and it’s your first solo-autopsy as the assistant coroner for Storybrooke, Maine. Too bad the corpse isn’t quite as dead as you thought.
Relationships: Mad Hatter | Jefferson & You, Mad Hatter | Jefferson/Original Female Character(s), Mad Hatter | Jefferson/You
Comments: 45
Kudos: 61





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This fic is an AU featuring characters from Once Upon a Time (OUAT). You don’t have to be familiar with the show in order to read this. This fic will be updated every Tuesday, with the final installment updating on Halloween.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Chapter Warning: Blood, Blood Drinking, Light details of an autopsy/medical procedure
> 
> Series Warnings: 18+, Smut, Graphic Violence, Blood/Gore, Blood Drinking, Light details of an Autopsy/Medical Procedure, Angst, Fluff

It was Friday.

It was October 31st—Halloween Eve, and you were about to conduct your first solo autopsy.

Of course you were.

It wasn’t like you hadn’t done this before, in medical school and under the careful tutelage of Dr. Whale. Still, you didn’t want to screw it up. You had only been acting as the Assistant Coroner for Storybrooke, Maine for six months, and this was a big step for you. If this went well, you’d be given your own case load.

_Deep breath, you’ve got this, girl._

You weren’t queasy—far from it. You cut into bodies with the same detachment as carving into the meat you prepared for dinner, and you had both a cast iron stomach and a steady hand. No, you were nervous about messing something up, missing an essential observation and losing face in the eyes of your mentor.

_Okay. Time to get into the zone._

You grabbed your iPod and soon the familiar melody of your favorite song echoed through the basement lab. You adjusted your scrubs and donned your surgical gloves, walking over to the long set of refrigerated doors recessed into the wall. Checking the labels, you found the one Dr. Whale had assigned to you:

CASE NO. 22749

NAME UNKNOWN

MALE, APPROX. 25-30

STORYBROOKE, ME

TOD: APPROX. 2200 30OCT2019

PRELIM COD: EXANGUINATION

You hummed in approval at the preliminary time of death. A fresh one—at least you wouldn’t have to worry about decomp. Opening the refrigerated door, you slid the drawer out, pulled the sheet off the body, maneuvered the gurney close, and blinked in surprise when you saw the victim’s clothing.

_Must have been going to an early Halloween Party._

You had seen all types pass through the doors of the morgue—death certainly brooked no favorites. This one, however, was one of the stranger ones. He was dressed in what looked like turn-of-the-century clothing, complete with silk scarf and waistcoat. He was quite handsome, and he almost looked like he was sleeping, if it wasn’t for the deathlike pallor of his face and the shocking amount of blood covering his upper half.

That, and the ten-inch-long wooden stake through his heart.

Shaking yourself from your stupor, you carefully slid the body onto the gurney, frowning at the complete lack of rigor mortis. If it weren’t for the icy coolness of the skin, you would have sworn the man had died only an hour ago instead of over 24.

_Must be a mistake._

Rolling the gurney under the lights, you transferred the body to the autopsy table. You made a careful analysis of your work station and nodded in approval seeing all of your instruments in order.

Now, to begin.

First, you carefully removed the object piercing the victim’s chest; you had to use quite a bit of force to pull it out and actually stumbled back a bit on your heels as it slid free, cursing under your breath. Still, it came out in one piece and you placed it carefully in an evidence bag.

Next up were his clothes, as odd as they were. They were of exceptionally fine quality, tailored to fit him perfectly. Topcoat and vest, shirt and pants, all the little odds and ends sealed in evidence bags and labeled meticulously. There wasn’t much in his pockets—no wallet or identification of any kind, although there was a pocket watch with a black and white photograph of a beautiful little girl.

For some reason, it made you sad to look at it.

You pulled a crisp, white sheet up to his waist to preserve the deceased’s modesty, your cheeks blushing subconsciously as you took in his form. Perfect bone structure, muscles looking as if they were sculpted from marble—he was quite the specimen. The only imperfection on his whole body was the gaping hole over his heart, and a small scar on the left side of his throat, directly over his jugular.

You continued on, washing the body’s top half and cleaning his chest of the dried blood—there was a lot of it. Rosy tendrils ran together with the water as it swirled down the drain. It was even in his hair and at the corner of his mouth, and you shuddered as you worked your fingers through his short chestnut locks.

It had been a most violent death.

Toweling the victim dry, you turned and exchanged your gloves for fresh ones, finally ready to begin. You turned on the tape recorder and started your process, settling into your routine.

“This is Dr. Y/N Y/L/N, and the date is October 31st, 2019. The time is 2242. I will be conducting the autopsy for the open homicide case number 22749.”

You paused, reading from the card for the benefit of the report. “The victim is a John Doe, found in the woods across from Whispering Pines Cemetery in Storybrooke, ME. Victim is approx. 25 years old, male Caucasian. Time of death noted as 2200 on October 30th, 2019, although I note a complete lack of rigor mortis that suggests this estimate is false. Preliminary cause of death is exsanguination, likely caused by the large stab wound to the upper thoracic cavity.”

You grabbed your stethoscope and light pen from the tray and leaned over the body, conducting the examination required by the State of Maine. Skirting the gaping wound, you held the end of the stethoscope to several areas of the chest and listened carefully for a heartbeat you knew you wouldn’t find.

You stifled a small gasp as you peeled back an eyelid to check pupillary response; although they remained fixed and unresponsive, his eyes were clear and remarkably blue. There was absolutely no sign of the usual cloudiness you saw in a body at this stage.

Maybe it was just because this was your first solo autopsy, maybe it was because it was Halloween, but you were starting to get unnerved. Was it just your imagination, or did his skin seem warmer?

You cleared your throat and continued, slipping back into the comfort of your routine.

“In accordance with the State of Maine I’ve verified the victim’s vitals with negative results. Heartrate and blood pressure are zero, pupillary reaction is negative. Liver temp is 4 degrees Celsius. I am confirming the victim is deceased, but due to the inconsistencies with rigor mortis and corneal clouding, I can’t yet confirm the _time_ of death.”

As you put your equipment back on the tray, you could have sworn you saw the body’s fingers twitch. A thrill of fear washed over you, and you shook it off.

_Get it together, Y/N._

Snatching up your kit, you drew a blood sample for toxicology. Based on the victim’s clothing and apparent fetishes, you were sure it would be interesting to say the least.

You pulled the overhead light closer, examining the wound in his chest. Now that you had a better view you could see the stake, or whatever it was, had actually missed the victim’s heart, only nicking it.

“I note a stab wound to the victim’s chest, upper left quadrant. It was caused by a ten inch wooden stake, approximately one inch in diameter, which I’ve removed and placed in evidence bag 1A. From an exterior examination it appears the weapon only grazed the victim’s heart, but I can see the indication of massive and sudden blood loss, which would have sent the victim into hypovolemic shock, leading to cardiac arrest and death.”

You completed your external examination of the body, noting minor defensive wounds on the hands and the small scar on his throat. Strange, because it was the only scar on his whole body—usually there were at least a few.

Moving up to his head, you stated for the record the complete lack of corneal clouding, which should have been present even two hours after death. It wasn’t until you opened the victim’s mouth that you realized this was by far the strangest case you’d ever seen.

There were two short fangs, right where the canines should be.

They were either some kind of genetic abnormality or some very expensive implants, because they were very real—and very sharp. You realized this last part as you felt along their length, and the sharp point cut your finger, right through the glove. Blood welled from the cut, dripping down onto the victim’s lips as you pulled back in pain and shock.

“What the hell?!”

You hastily discarded your gloves, swearing colorfully and creatively while you rummaged around for a band-aid. 

This was ridiculous. It was just a cadaver—a cold, dead body—someone who clearly had some sort of vampire fetish, and just because it was Halloween you were letting it get to your head.

_Get your shit together, girl. You are a professional. You are not going to let your overactive imagination run wild on this and ruin your first chance at proving yourself._

Drawing on a fresh pair of gloves, you picked up your scalpel from the tray and scowled down at the body as if it had offended your personally.

Placing your scalpel above the apex of the heart, you pressed firmly and drew the scalpel down, stopping just above the navel. Then you drew the scalpel down from the shoulders to where you started, completing a perfect y-incision. Very little blood seeped from the incision, but what little that escaped was strangely dark and viscous. You reached up and adjusted the overhead light, wanting to get a better look before you proceeded.

You heard a very small sigh from the table below you, and you nearly jumped out of your skin as a weak voice spoke to you.

“I’m afraid I’ll have to ask that you stop, my dear. That last one stung a bit.”

You yelped and jumped backwards, knocking over the tray of instruments. Two intense blue eyes were staring up at you from the autopsy table, his lips tugged up into an amused grin. Thankful you had the presence of mind to keep ahold of your scalpel, you raised it in front of you and tried to ignore the way your hand shook.

“What the fuck?!”

The man—the _corpse_ —chided you, a devilish smirk playing across his lips. “Such vulgar language in a woman. I love it.”

His eyes blazed with the very fires of hell, but otherwise he looked weak and sick, a far cry from the alabaster specimen you examined only moments ago. His skin was still deathly pale, and dark smudges stood out under his eyes while his body shook with a slight tremor. Sweat dotted his brow. He tried to sit up but gasped and fell back, his head rolling feebly.

“Well, this is tedious. I daresay this is one of the most interesting predicaments I’ve ever found myself in.”

“I-I…are you…this is a j-joke, right?” you stuttered. “Prank the new girl on Halloween, r-right? Is that what this is?”

You asked the questions, but you knew deep down it was no prank. You just pulled a ten-inch stake from his chest. He had no heartbeat. His eyes never reacted to the light. He didn’t even flinch as you _cut into him_.

And those fangs.

No one— _no one_ —could have faked all of that.

He saw your confusion and disbelief, and he laughed softly as he gingerly lifted himself up on one elbow. As he did, you saw that both his wound and the y-incision had already begun to heal slightly.

You felt lightheaded.

“I apologize, where are my manners? My name is Jefferson. And you are…Y/N, if I heard correctly.”

He held out his hand but let it drop again when you made no move to take it.

“You…you heard all of that? But you were…you…you’re…”

“Dead? Well, in a manner of speaking…yes. I certainly don’t feel very lively right now.”

He shut his eyes, and despite everything you felt a pang of sympathy. He was clearly weak and in pain, which wasn’t all that surprising, whatever he was.

You cursed viciously and shook your head. What were you thinking? “This—this is ridiculous. This is impossible!”

“Improbable, but not impossible,” he argued dryly.

“A-Are you a…vampire?”

“Yes.”

“You were staked through the chest, I just cut you open, and now you’re talking to me.”

“Yes.”

“You have no heartbeat.”

“Correct again,” he sighed. “Are there going to be many more questions? I’m really quite tired.”

You shook your head, unwilling to believe what was right in front of you. “Vampires aren’t real.”

Jefferson’s lips twitched, hearing your insistence. “I’d beg to differ.”

You narrowed your eyes, taking in all the information, calculating. You were a woman of science…nothing was impossible, but you still didn’t believe in the boogey-man. Yet here lay irrefutable evidence that some myths _are_ true. You nodded at the partially healed wound in his chest.

“I thought stakes killed vampires.”

Jefferson sighed and laid back on the autopsy table, settling in for an extended interrogation that he clearly wasn’t up for.

“Wooden stakes _do_ kill vampires, but only if they pierce the heart. As you so astutely observed during your examination, the stake merely nicked mine. It bled like the devil and caused some sort of paralysis, but it didn’t kill me.” He paused thoughtfully. “I was extremely lucky.”

You looked over at the refrigerated cadaver drawers. “So…that whole time, you were just lying there, awake?”

Jefferson chuckled softly. “It wasn’t my first choice.”

“Well, why don’t you get up then? I’m sure you have somewhere else to be other than lying here talking to me,” you muttered sarcastically. You couldn’t believe you were having this conversation right now.

“I-I can’t.”

Jefferson sounded both tired and irritated, and you thought you could even detect a bit of fear in his voice. He was shivering again, and he looked even more pale and sickly than before. Your eyes narrowed with understanding.

“You need blood.”

“What?”

“Blood—that’s why you’re so weak right now, right? That…that’s what brought you back part of the way, wasn’t it? When I cut my finger on your…”

Jefferson smiled, as if remembering a fond memory. “Yes…your blood. I have to admit, as far gone as I was, that little taste was quite intoxicating.”

He eyed you hungrily, a predatory gleam in his eyes that kicked your heartrate up a couple of notches. Jefferson chuckled as if he could hear its panicked rhythm.

“Don’t worry my dear, I’m quite at your mercy. I doubt I could even muster up the strength to bite you right now—it’s quite embarrassing, really.”

He wearily closed his eyes, and you looked at him thoughtfully. If Jefferson really was what he said he was, you should be afraid right now. Every bit of vampire mythos told you that you should be. Yet the man you saw before you was just that—a man and not a monster, scared and alone and in pain.

You thought of the picture of the little girl in his pocket watch. Was that his daughter? The photograph looked ancient, but you supposed it could be—she certainly looked like him. Jefferson was watching you, and you were moved by the sad vulnerability in his eyes.

He needed your help.

You took a steadying breath. “I-If I give it to you, will you hurt me?”

The weary smile disappeared from his face, replaced with a look of surprise. You also thought you could detect a hint of uncertainty in his eyes.

“You would do that…for me?” he asked quietly.

You swallowed thickly, not believing you were even contemplating this. “If you promise you won’t harm me, yes…I will.”

“Why?”

“You’re hurting…and you’re scared.” You looked at him sadly and your shoulders fell. “I…I don’t like to see others in pain.”

Jefferson shook his head weakly. “I-I can’t. I can’t take that from you, it’s…just call my…”

“You’re not taking anything from me, I’m giving it…I know you need it.”

Jefferson exhaled, his lips twitching in a sad smile. He seemed to be fading fast. Whatever restorative effects that little bit of blood had given him seemed to be almost gone—he could barely even keep his eyes open.

“I won’t hurt you…I promise,” he murmured.

Of course, it could all be an act, but deep down, you didn’t think it was. You were a little scared and maybe it was foolish, but something told you that you could trust him.

You picked up the scalpel, and your hands were steady as you made a small incision on your wrist, wincing at the pain as you pressed down. Blood welled at your wrist, and you saw Jefferson’s eyes slowly open as he caught the scent, his pupils blown with hunger.

Carefully lifting his head from the table with one hand, you gave him your injured wrist. You held it to his lips, and Jefferson’s eyes fluttered closed as he tasted you. He moaned quietly as he fastened his mouth around your wound and began to drink.

His cold grasp was firm yet gentle, and you could tell he was showing great restraint as he took long pulls from your wrist.

It was a strange feeling, both alarming and euphoric, feeling the blood leave your body. Your heart began to race and Jefferson’s hands tightened slightly on your wrist as if in response to the sound. You looked down in astonishment as his wounds began to stitch together before your eyes, until nothing remained but smooth, unblemished skin.

Jefferson fell back and released you wrist with a sigh, and you lowered his head back onto the table. For a moment he simply laid there, breathing heavily. There was a small trickle of blood at the corner of his mouth, and as he licked it away you could see that his fangs had retracted completely.

You stepped back as Jefferson’s blue eyes fluttered open, looking at you with a mixture of surprise and longing. Color had returned to his cheeks, and he looked infinitely healthier than he had a few moments ago.

He looked absolutely perfect.

Jefferson’s eyes flooded with concern, noting your pale complexion and the hand pressed against your wound. He quickly sat up, keeping the sheet in place around his waist.

“Here, give me your arm…please,” he asked, holding out a hand.

You gave him your injured arm and he gently took it, lifting your wrist to his lips once again. This time, however, he didn’t drink. His tongue lapped over the wound, and you gasped as the pain receded and the deep cut disappeared. He released you, chuckling at your reaction but still looking concerned and a little embarrassed.

“It’s the saliva, it…um has some mild anesthetic and healing properties.”

“I-I can see that.”

“You should probably sit down, I’m sure you’re feeling a bit faint by now.”

It was true, your head was spinning and your heart was still racing, and you sat down heavily on a stool. Jefferson watched you for a few moments as if to make sure you were okay, then he swung his legs over the table, one hand firmly holding the sheet in place. He fixed you with a questioning stare.

“Why did you trust me?” he asked. “You don’t even know me, and up until a few moments ago you didn’t even believe in vampires. For all you knew, I could have killed you…yet you didn’t hesitate to help me. Why?”

“You have kind eyes,” you answered simply.

Jefferson scoffed. “So because my eyes are kind you would suffer a devil like me?”

“Better to suffer the devil you know than the devil you don’t,” you shot back.

He blinked rapidly at your retort. “You are singly unique, Y/N, do you know that? I don’t believe I’ve ever met anyone quite like you.”

“Right back at you, buddy…you’re a first for me, too.”

You laughed at the absurdity of the situation, and then reality set in. There was a naked vampire sitting on your autopsy table, and eventually dawn—and Dr. Whale—would come. You sighed and walked to the supply closet, digging out a pair of male scrubs and handing them to Jefferson.

“Here. You can wear these, I don’t…your clothes are evidence,” you explained, seeing his confused look. “I can make a body disappear, but the evidence is harder.”

Suddenly, you remembered the pocket watch. You spun and dug it out of the sealed evidence bag—they wouldn’t miss the tiny object, and you could replace the bag later.

“Um, here. The clothes are going to be impossible, but this…it looks like it might mean something to you. Take it.”

Jefferson looked from the watch to the scrubs to you, surprise showing on his face once again. He slowly took the watch from you. He flicked it open as if to make sure the photograph was still there, and his face transformed. His features softened completely, and a look of such longing affection came over him that it absolutely broke your heart. You cleared your throat and turned your back to give him some privacy, and you heard him get down off the table and pull on the scrubs.

Suddenly he laughed hysterically, and you wondered if he wasn’t the slightest bit mad.

“I have to say, attending your own autopsy is the most outrageous experience I’ve had in a long time, and after a hundred and thirty-two years, that’s saying something.”

You half turned, curious. “A hundred and thirty-two? So you were born in—”

“1887.”

You snorted. “Okay.”

“I’m being serious.”

“I’m sure you are, Jefferson. I think I’d believe just about anything after the night I’ve had.”

Jefferson’s face grew somber. “What are you going to tell the police? I know this is an open homicide investigation, surely they’ll wonder where the body is.”

You shrugged. “They don’t have much to do with the bodies once they pass through our doors. I’ll fake the rest of the autopsy report and say your body was collected early this morning for private cremation. They might be a little ticked off, but they’ll have their evidence and that’s all they’re really interested in. It’s happened before. The early pickups, that is, not the whole…cadaver getting up and walking out thing—that’s a new one for me.”

Jefferson frowned at your casual response, and he looked thoughtfully down at the pocket watch in his hand. He walked up to you and pulled you to your feet, his hands steadying you at your elbows. You were still a little light headed.

“You took tremendous risk for me tonight, and I don’t like leaving my debts unpaid. There must be something I can do for you, something you want. Name it, and if it’s in my power, it’s yours.”

He leveled a gaze at you, and the blue of the scrubs brought out the rich color of his eyes. You felt like you would drown in them. He said anything you wanted, but in that moment, there was only one thing you could think of.

“I’d settle for a kiss, and we’ll call it even.”

You blushed at your own forwardness, and Jefferson’s eyes widened in surprise. He exhaled sharply and bit his lip, and you felt yourself go weak at the knees. You watched his pupils dilate as he reached up a hand to gently cup your cheek. His hand was surprisingly warm, nothing at all like the icy coolness of his skin you had felt earlier.

He drew you close, and you could feel his breath against your face as his lips grazed yours. Your heart pounded against your ribs and he smiled slightly before capturing your lips with his.

The kiss was soft and sweet, gentle but with a darkly suggestive undertone that caused a flare of heat to ignite in your belly. You felt a second hand reach up to cradle your face and his lips parted beneath yours, his tongue gliding sinfully across your bottom lip. Your hands fisted in his scrubs, pulling him closer and Jefferson moaned in response, deepening the kiss.

All too soon you parted, both of you rocking back on your heels and breathing heavily. Jefferson let out a breathy laugh, running a hand through his hair.

“Well,” he breathed, “I’m not sure who benefited more from that little exchange, but I can truly say that it has been a pleasure meeting you, Y/N. I hope that if our paths cross again it will be under more desirable circumstances.”

Jefferson’s lips curled into a half-smile, and he leaned in and kissed you lightly on the cheek.

“Thank you,” he whispered, squeezing your hand gently.

You were left absolutely speechless, the ghost of his kiss on your lips as he turned and walked out of the double doors of the morgue and off into the night.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Chapter Warning: Blood/Violence, Attempted Murder, Fluff/Pining
> 
> Series Warnings: 18+, Smut, Graphic Violence, Blood/Gore, Blood Drinking, Light details of an Autopsy/Medical Procedure, Angst, Fluff

**Whispering Pines Cemetery, Storybrooke ME - Twenty-Four Hours Earlier**

Jefferson ran, and the witch pursued.

He dodged the tombstones, footsteps light against the grass. He was fast—preternaturally fast—but Regina was faster.

A swipe across his back sent him pitching forward onto the moss, and he heard a low, dark laugh. Jefferson spun, clutching the spell book to his chest as she advanced out of the shadows. She was on foot (witches on brooms, imagine such a thing?) but her powers had been greatly enhanced by the very tome he held in his hands.

“Jefferson…my sweet. You really haven’t learnt a thing from our previous encounters, have you?”

Jefferson didn’t say anything, but his eyes were full of hatred as he stared up at the woman who had taken everything from him.

Regina clicked her tongue. “Oh, don’t look at me like that. It’s nothing _personal_. I’m just surprised you thought you could double-cross me. That you _actually_ _thought_ you would get away with it this time. I’m not sure if you’re just a glutton for punishment, or if you really are that stupid.”

Yes, well, she had a point there. But Jefferson had always been a little blind where his daughter was concerned, a blindness that invariably led to recklessness. The spell book he had stolen from Regina was one of the last pieces of magic left, and his only hope of breaking the spell that had cursed him to this life. It was his only hope of ever seeing his daughter again.

“The book, Jefferson. Give it to me, and I’ll let you live.”

Regina gestured to the spell book in his hands, and his eyes followed the path of the long wooden stake she held. She was lying—he knew that—but if he gave up the book, his plan would be ruined. Jefferson was quickly running out of options.

He still had one last trick up his sleeve, though.

Jefferson pulled a battered old pocket watch from his vest, and started to swing it in a circle above the book. Reina’s eyes went wide.

“Now you see it, now you don’t,” he murmured.

She lunged for the book, but just before her hands grazed the surface he tapped the pocket watch on the cover, and the book disappeared.

“You bastard, what did you do?!” she screeched. “Where did it go?!”

Jefferson snarled right back at her, placing the pocket watch back in his vest.. “Somewhere _you’ll_ never find it, you hateful shrew.”

She advanced upon him and he felt his back press against a tombstone. Regina lifted the stake and held it to his chest, hovering over his heart. He clenched his jaw in resignation.

Jefferson was cornered—he knew it. He knew he couldn’t outrun her, but maybe—just maybe—he could out-maneuver her. He sidestepped right and then threw himself to the left, thinking it would throw her off balance.

He thought wrong.

Quick as a viper, Regina thrust the stake at his chest. Jefferson fell backwards, trying to dodge the strike, but it wasn’t enough.

The stake pierced his chest, and the pain was unimaginable. Jefferson gasped and stumbled back as the blood began to flow. His breath stilled in his lungs and he went rigid, dropping to the ground with a groan.

His heart---she’d pierced his heart.

He was dying.

_Grace._

Jefferson fell back against the dirt, his hands scrabbling weakly at the stake. There was so much blood. He was choking on it, a coppery tang in his mouth as his lifeblood flowed through his fingers.

_Oh, god…the pain._

His strength was failing. His vision doubled, greying at the edges, and he was dimly aware of Regina bending over him.

“Does it hurt, Jefferson? I hope it does, you little insect. Twice, you thought you could steal from _me_ ,” she said, brushing off her pantsuit daintily as she glared down at him. “I know you think you’ve won, but trust me…I _will_ find that book, and your death will have been for _nothing_.”

Jefferson’s throat worked as he tried to speak, but all he could do was gurgle. Regina smirked, and crouched down, her voice a haughty snarl in his ear.

“Say hello to Grace for me…oh, that’s right. She won’t be there—not where you’re going.”

Jefferson was starting to drift. His vision started to dim, and even the blood flow had almost stopped. There was simply nothing left. With the last of his strength, he smiled. His lips twitched, and he uttered one word.

“Grace.”

With that, his eyes went distant, slipping closed.

“Stop! Police!”

The sound of rushing footsteps, but Regina was gone. Instead, Jefferson lay flat on his back in a gruesome tableau.

Only Jefferson wasn’t dead yet.

He felt the fingers against his throat, desperately searching for a pulse they wouldn’t have found, even on the best of days. Jefferson lay motionless, his eyes closed and trapped within his own body as hands pressed against his chest, feeling for a heartbeat.

He could’ve told them they wouldn’t find one…if he could only move.

“He’s gone. Bastard got him pretty good—did you get a look at him, Chief?”

“No, all I caught was the outline, I think it was a woman.”

Jefferson recognized that voice. It was Emma Swan, the Storybrooke Police Chief. He sensed her crouch down next to him.

“Sweet Jesus…what a mess. Call it in, get Doc Whale down here.”

Jefferson was confused. The stake should have killed him, but he was still clearly alive…as much as that term could be applied to someone like him. Yet he still couldn’t move, couldn’t speak or even open his eyes.

The effect was quite unnerving. Regina must have nicked his heart, and instead of killing him the stake was merely paralyzing him—that was the only explanation.

_Oh, well this is another fine mess you’ve gotten yourself into, Jefferson._

What to do, what to do? Nothing, really…except lay there and wait. It wasn’t until he heard the word autopsy being bandied about that Jefferson began to get nervous.

_Well, this is going to be unpleasant._

Then a rich crimson liquid dotted his lips, and he opened his eyes to see her.

Her.

***

**Present Day**

The first streaks of grey were just starting to paint the night sky as Jefferson walked up the stairs of his mansion. He fumbled in the pockets of the borrowed scrubs for a moment, before he realized his house keys were still locked up in the morgue…as evidence. Nothing to be done about that. He would have to ask Mrs. Conrad to make him a new pair. Jefferson rang the doorbell and leaned against the doorframe, his head spinning with the events of the past two days.

He had been stabbed and almost killed by that she-devil of a witch, Regina.

He had woken up to find himself witness to his own autopsy.

He had met a beautiful and intriguing woman, one who had saved his wretched life without a thought to her own. A woman who gave of herself freely, asking nothing in return other than a kiss.

The kiss.

Jefferson smiled at the memory, and if he had a heart he imagined it would beat a little faster, remembering her soft, velveteen lips against his. Everything about her had him tied up in knots—her beautiful face, her scent, her blood.

Her selfless personality, unwavering in the face of fear. And oh yes, he knew she had been afraid of him at first. He had heard the rapid pounding of her heartbeat, rife with adrenaline and screaming at her to run—right up until the moment he began to drink her blood—and then it began to pound with something else. Something that had awakened a feeling long dormant in him.

He smiled to himself, remembering the feel of her hands on his body. Long, delicate fingers carefully untying his scarf, brushing against the vile scar on his throat, unbuttoning his waistcoat and shirt, undressing him. The warmth of her hands, their gentle yet professional touch as she examined his wound, fingers trailing over his chest and through his hair as she carefully washed the blood away. The delightful shade of blush that crept in her cheeks after the kiss.

He wondered what shade she would turn if she knew he had felt everything. 

Jefferson touched his lips, still tingling with the after-effects of both her kiss and fresh blood. It hadn’t been a true feeding, but it had been so long since he had tasted fresh blood that it made his head spin. Warm, rich, coppery liquid drenching his throat, the sweet taste of her bringing him back to life. Her heartbeat, pounding in his ears and pulsing against his lips as she fed him. Just knowing that she gave of herself freely—just to help a wicked creature like him—sent him reeling.

God, he was a mess.

Jefferson hated what he was—a vampire. He purposely shunned the lifestyle as much as possible, using only donated, pre-packaged blood from a blood bank and trying to maintain a shred of humanity. He hadn’t asked for this life. It had been cursed upon him by Regina, an imbalanced payment for his crimes against her. And by god, had he paid for them.

Grace. His sweet Grace.

At least he had gotten to watch her grow up, even if it had been from a distance. It hurt, to see the lovely young woman she blossomed into, how she fell in love and started a family of her own. Children, grandchildren, and even a few great-grandchildren had come before she was finally called up to heaven. A long and happy life.

All without him.

Two lifetimes without his daughter Grace, who now lay moldering in her grave. Two lifetimes…cursed to survive by preying on others. If he weren’t such a coward he would have taken his own life long before now. He would have, if it weren’t for Grace.

Jefferson knew his soul had been cursed by Regina. He was destined for hell, and if he ended his life now he would surely burn for all eternity. So he hung on in the hopes that he could reverse the curse, redeem his soul and maybe—just maybe—be reunited with his daughter in the afterlife.

It was a fool’s dream, he knew, but Jefferson was nothing if not a dreamer.

“Cuttin’ it a bit close, aren’t you?”

Mrs. Conrad’s sharp voice startled him from his reverie, and Jefferson smiled. He spun and fixed her with his most disarming grin, which widened when he saw the spell book in her hands.

“I’m home and in good health, Mrs. Conrad, and all before the crack of dawn.”

The old housekeeper wrinkled her nose. “You look like someone’s dragged you under their carriage for the past hour, Jefferson. Where are your clothes, boy? And why do you have that sappy look on your face?”

Jefferson stood, brushing his hands down the scrubs with dignity. “I have had the singular experience of being present at my own autopsy tonight, Mrs. Conrad. Something I’m sure you cannot boast of, even with your advanced years.”

He tried to keep a straight face for the benefit of the joke, but he couldn’t. Mrs. Conrad smacked him lightly across the back the head, her expression a mixture of affection and worry.

“You are the very devil, you are…you had me worried.” She handed him the spell book as he passed through the front door. “Here. I hope it was worth all the trouble, when it appeared in the hat and you didn’t return, I feared the worst.”

She fixed him with an impenetrable stare, and he knew he wouldn’t be able to lie his way through this one. “What happened?”

Jefferson sighed. “It was Regina. She’d discovered I’ve stolen her spell book, and she took the slight with her usual grace and charm.”

“The same grace and charm that had you ending up on an autopsy table?”

“Yes, well…we’ll just say her aim isn’t what it used to be. The wicked harpy tried to stake me but she missed my heart, although the effect was quite impressive, nonetheless. Gallons of blood later, I lay helpless at her feet, but alas the police showed up before she had the chance to finish me off and steal the watch.”

Mrs. Conrad snorted.

“Needless to say they thought I was quite dead, as did the poor woman who started to conduct the autopsy. Luckily for me she pulled the stake out and cut herself examining my fangs, which revived me enough to stop her before she proceeded too far.” Jefferson paused thoughtfully. “I was quite relieved, actually. I wasn’t looking forward to having various elements of my viscera removed.”

Mrs. Conrad narrowed her eyes at him. “And?”

“And what?”

“You met someone, I can tell…a lady. Who’s this coroner you were talking about?”

Jefferson rolled his eyes and walked past her into the library. “It’s none of your business, you nosy creature,” he huffed. “And what do you mean, you can tell?”

“You’re smitten with her, it’s written all over your face, Jefferson. Standing there grinning to yourself like a lovesick puppy. It’s her isn’t it? The coroner. Well, I suppose that’s fitting.” She grinned slyly. “Is she pretty? What’s her name?”

He smiled and folded his arms across his chest. There was no fooling the old housekeeper; she almost knew him better than himself.

“Her name is Y/N, and she’s beautiful…and kind…selfless…” Jefferson’s eyes grew distant and a blush rose in his cheeks as he recalled their encounter, and his lips ghosting into a smile. She was right—he was quite smitten with the girl.

“Does she know what you are?” Mrs. Conrad asked gently.

“I daresay she does. I gave her quite a fright yet she took it all in stride. She uses the most delightfully foul language when she’s startled, you’d love her.”

The smile faded from his lips, and Jefferson frowned. “She gave of herself freely to me. She…she let me feed on her to regain my strength. I-I didn’t ask her for it, she simply offered it.”

He began to pace the room, his hands clasped behind his back. “She was afraid of me at first, not terrified, but uncertain. Yet she wanted to help me—she said she didn’t like to see another in pain. And after, when I told her I was in her debt, all she asked of me was a kiss. I would have given her anything in my power, but that’s all she wanted.”

Mrs. Conrad smiled, looking at her charge fondly. “Smart woman.”

The old woman straightened and fixed him with a level glance. “A woman like that is something to hold onto, Jefferson. Hold onto her, but watch over her—if you draw her into your world she’s liable to get hurt, especially with Regina out for blood.”

“I know,” he said softly.

Jefferson wasn’t sure what to do. His head was spinning with the events of the past few hours, and he still felt very tired. He sat down heavily in a chair near the fireplace, and Mrs. Conrad placed a soothing hand on his shoulder.

“Go to bed, Jefferson, it’s nearly dawn and you look worn to the bone. Can I get you anything?”

He looked up at her gratefully. “Well, I wouldn’t say not to a cup of tea…it’s been a very trying evening.”

***

The dead leaves scattered before you as you rode your bike through town, the chill to the morning air leaving your cheeks and nose a light shade of pink.

November first already—soon you’d have to switch out your bicycle for your car, and it made you a little sad. The morgue wasn’t far from your little apartment above the bookstore, and you enjoyed the fresh air and exercise. You parked your bike in front of Granny’s Diner, looking forward to a large, indulgent breakfast and about a gallon of coffee.

You deserved it, especially after the whopper of a night you just had.

After Jefferson left, you sat there processing the events of the evening for nearly an hour. You were minus one cadaver and had an autopsy report to fake, vampires were apparently real, and you had just experienced the most amazing kiss of your life.

Jefferson was quite possibly the most beautiful man you had ever seen…and you had seen a lot more of him that you had seen of any other man for quite some time. You blushed self-consciously into your coffee cup as you remembered.

His eyes, so intensely blue, gazing up at you with surprise and longing. The feel of his sculpted chest underneath the scrubs as he held you, his strong hands cradling your face. The heat that had started to burn low in your belly, both while he fed on you and during the kiss. His soft lips against yours in a kiss that expected nothing, yet promised more.

Yes, you had been afraid of him at first. He was a vampire, after all, and there was still something darkly predatory about him. Yet you sensed he was a gentle soul—you were pretty good at reading people, and you had a good feeling about him.

You wondered if you would ever see him again.

After Jefferson left it had taken you several minutes to pull yourself together enough to do what had to be done. You edited and “completed” the audio log for the autopsy, and even faked the transfer papers for private cremation. The evidence was re-sealed, now minus the pocket watch, which you struck from the ledger.

Luckily for you, Dr. Whale decided to take a late morning, and hadn’t arrived at the morgue until ten. This lent credibility to your “early pickup” story, and he seemed very pleased with your work. So pleased, in fact, that you were now assigned the night shift, and in charge of your own case load.

You supposed you should be happy, but all you felt now was tired.

“Dr. Y/L/N, could I have a word with you?”

Startled out of your reverie, you blinked up at the blond figure of Police Chief Emma Swan standing in front of you.

“Oh, hi, Chief Swan, I didn’t see you there.”

She smiled kindly. “Sorry to interrupt, you look pretty tired…mind if I sit?”

You gestured to the empty seat across from you and took a large gulp of coffee. “Transitioning to nights…it’s been kicking my ass.”

Emma nodded. “I just stopped by to look over the autopsy report, Doc Whale said you did an excellent job. Congrats on your promotion, by the way.”

“Thank you.”

“I just wanted to ask a couple of questions about the company that did the pickup. I know it’s happened before, but it’s a little…inconvenient.”

You nodded, slipping into the story you had concocted. “I know, I was a little surprised myself. The people that picked the body up were from a private group, usually that means it was pre-arranged by the family of the deceased. Kinda weird, because this was a John Doe.”

You paused to take a sip of your coffee, maintaining eye contact. “This was my first case—Dr. Whale usually handles the transfers, you know—and they had all the paperwork in order, so I let it go. I’m sorry if I did something wrong.”

Emma sighed. “No, you didn’t, and you’re right—all the paperwork was in order. It’s just that I wish we could’ve had a bit more time, maybe find out who he was. The murder was…brutal to say the least, and I’m a little concerned that this happened here in Storybrooke.”

She rapped the table and stood, giving you a warm smile.

“Okay, I’ve kept you long enough—you look like you’re about to pass out in your coffee mug. I used to work nights back when I was a deputy, and it sucks. Go home, get some sleep. I’ll call you if I think of anything else.”

With that, she turned and left, and you let out a breath you hadn’t realized you’d been holding.

Twelve hours later found you back at the morgue. There weren’t any autopsies to be conducted, so you were busy sorting supplies in the cabinets. A large shipment had come in during the day, and it was likely to take you most of the night.

You had the music turned up—one good thing about working nights, no one cared how loud the music was. So you didn’t hear the tapping sound from the locked double doors of the morgue until the song ended.

You whirled towards the door, hoping maybe Jefferson had come back to see you.

Instead you saw a woman standing on the other side of the glass, tapping on the door. She was dark haired and very pretty, and upon catching your attention her crimson lips widened into a smile, revealing a neat row of pearly white teeth.

“Well, hello there,” she purred.


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Reader gets a visit from Regina, Jefferson borderline loses his mind.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter Warning: Blood/Violence, Assault, Fluff/Pining
> 
> Series Warnings: 18+, Smut, Graphic Violence, Blood/Gore, Blood Drinking, Light details of an Autopsy/Medical Procedure, Angst, Fluff

“Well, hello there.”

Your heart leapt in your throat. That wasn’t Jefferson—you had no idea who this woman was. You unlocked the door, standing aside as she brushed past you.

“Um, can I help you?”

The woman smiled broadly, although it didn’t settle your nerves any. She looked like a wolf about to make a kill.

“I certainly hope so…Y/N, is it? Assistant Coroner?” The woman waltzed into the lab, drawing her finger possessively across the cabinets. “I believe you are just the person who can help me find who I’m looking for.”

You simply stared at her and shook your head. “I’m sorry, who are you? This place is off limits to—”

“Oh excuse me, of course! I’m Regina,” she said, as if this explained everything. “I’m looking for a young man that was brought here, about 25 years old, brown haired and blue eyed, large wooden stake through his heart. I’m sure you couldn’t miss him.”

Jefferson. She was talking about Jefferson. The hairs on the back of your neck stood up, and something told you this woman was dangerous.

“I’m sorry ma’am, but that information is confidential. You’ll have to take all official inquiries to the poli—”

“No, I’m _quite_ certain you can help me,” Regina said, her eyes flashing dangerously. “You see, I know he was brought here, and I _know_ you’re lying to me.”

You slowly stood, edging your way towards your cell phone on the desk.

“I’m sorry lady, but I don’t know what you’re talking about. No one was brought here by that description—”

In the blink of an eye Regina was upon you, her hands gripping your throat tightly. She squeezed, and you felt your air being choked off as your feet scrabbled for purchase against the slick linoleum.

“Oh, poppet, I’m afraid you don’t understand the game we’re playing.” She squeezed tighter, and stars began to explode behind your eyes. “The game is, you give me answers and I won’t kill you.”

With superhuman strength, she threw you across the room. Your body collided with a shelving cabinet and the glass door shattered. White hot pain lanced through your shoulder and you fell to the floor, crying out as your left knee struck the floor hard.

For a moment you just lay there, gasping for breath. Struggling to your feet, you looked around for something to defend yourself with, but before you were able to get up she hit you again. You flew backwards into the refrigerated cadaver drawers.

Your head hit the sharp corner of the drawer and your vision went dark for a moment. When you opened your eyes again your vision was doubled, and you felt something warm and sticky trickling down the side of your face.

“Let’s try this again,” Regina cooed to you sweetly. “The body—I know it was brought here, where is it? I want to see it.”

You swallowed thickly, trying to think despite the cloud of pain and confusion in your head. This woman was dangerous—for all you knew, she was the one who had tried to hurt Jefferson. He meant absolutely nothing to you, yet something told you to protect him.

“Okay, okay! He was here—last night,” you panted. “I…I did the autopsy on him myself, there’s a copy of the report on the desk if you want to see it.”

Regina’s eyes narrowed. “He was dead? Where’s the body now?” She looked at the refrigerated cadaver drawers, but you shook your head.

“N-No, the body’s gone. It was picked up this morning and sent for private cremation, you can ask the Sheriff if you don’t believe me. The transfer papers are right there on the desk.”

Regina stared at you for a moment. Then she huffed and glanced around the ruined lab, clenching her jaw in irritation. You scuttled backwards as she leveled her glance at you and advanced upon where you lay. She grabbed you up by the hair and spun you around, and your hands flew to your throat, feeling a blade pressed to your jugular.

“You better be telling the truth, girl, or you’ll wish I had finished you here.”

A little flick, and a small trail of blood trickled down your throat. “I’ll be watching you,” she warned.

Regina released you, and you fell to the floor. She snatched the paperwork from the desk as she left, the doors slamming shut behind her.

You weren’t sure how long you lay there, curled in a ball on the floor. You were shaking, your eyes burning as your chest heaved in panic. Everything hurt—your throat felt raw and swollen, your knee and shoulder throbbed, and your head was splitting with a headache that made you want to throw up.

That woman—that horrible woman—was after Jefferson. She’d almost killed you, just to get information on him.

What had you gotten yourself into?

_Okay, Y/N…damage control. Get ahold of yourself, get the situation under control._

Gradually your breathing slowed and you sat up, taking inventory of the morgue lab. Things had been knocked around, but at least not much had been broken, other than you. It shouldn’t be too hard to clean up.

_Okay…okay…I can do this. Just pick up the pieces, put them back, and no one will ever know._

Grabbing a small towel, you dabbed at the blood on your head and shoulder with shaking hands. You limped around the lab, cleaning up the mess and wondering just at what point your life had become a series of cover-ups.

You wrote a quick note to Dr. Whale about the broken glass door, saying you accidently hit it with your rolling stool. Broken glass was swept up, supplies were replaced, and you blood was wiped from the floor. Before long, the lab was back to normal.

Staring around the clinically tidy space, you couldn’t feel anything other than the anxiety and fear brewing in your chest. What if she found out you lied? What if she came back?

You could still feel Regina’s hands around your neck. Her sickly sweet voice hissing in your ear. A razor-sharp knife pressed to your throat, ready to end you in an instant.

You had to get out of there.

Without a second thought you shoved a scalpel in the pocket of your scrubs and walked off into the night, leaving behind your bicycle and your jacket. You didn’t think, you didn’t even care…you just needed to be away from that place.

The minutes stretched on as you wandered through the woods towards town. The panic continued to build, and soon you found yourself at the broad avenue that ran through the park. Feeling lightheaded and near hysterical, you collapsed onto a nearby park bench.

Then the tears came.

You weren’t sure how long you sat there, sobbing like a child. The sound of a soft footstep behind you had you on your feet, your heart hammering in your throat and scalpel raised in your hand.

“Y/N?”

***

Jefferson couldn’t wait any longer. He had to see her.

He had awoken at dusk, reborn again as the living dead like he always was, but with Y/N’s name on his lips and her beautiful face in his mind. All he could think about was her—what she had done for him, and how he could manage to see her again.

He wondered if she would be at the morgue tonight. It was a safe assumption; it was still the work week, and if she was working last night she was liable to be working again tonight.

Still, he didn’t want to bother her. Jefferson rocked on his heels, twisting his hands together. What if he was misreading their previous encounter? What if her attitude towards him and what he was had changed—after all, many things end up looking different in the light of day.

He still didn’t understand why she had helped him. What if she was horrified by what had happened, or even worse, disgusted by him? His head was spinning—he didn’t think he could take a flat-out rejection from her.

In another life, Jefferson wouldn’t have hesitated. But this was reality, and the truth of the matter was that he was a monster, the kind horror stories were made of. He wasn’t even human anymore.

Who could possibly love the likes of him?

So it was with a heavy ache in his chest that he went up to his study, instead. He pulled out the ancient spell book that had started this whole mess, and began deciphering and translating the ancient text.

Hours passed, and he had gotten nowhere. His mind kept wandering, but Jefferson was stubborn when he wanted to be.

“Why on god’s green earth are you sitting up here, pouring over that musty old book when there is a beautiful young woman who I’m sure would love to see you again?”

Jefferson’s head jerked up to see Mrs. Conrad standing in the doorway, holding a tea service in her hands. His mouth opened and closed, and she snorted as she set it on his desk.

“When’s the last time you fed, Jefferson, you looked peaked.”

“L-Last night—”

“I call that a small taste to bring you back from the jaws of death, my boy, not a proper feeding. You need to eat.”

She set a thermos down on the desk with a thud. Jefferson eyed it with disgust—it was blood from the local blood bank, he knew, and enough to keep him healthy, but he hated it nonetheless. That blood was meant to help save someone’s life, not for the likes of him.

“Drink it while it’s still warm, you know how vile it gets once it’s cold.”

Jefferson pointedly poured himself a cup of tea instead, ignoring the thermos.

“I’m fine.”

Mrs. Conrad scowled at him, and then her expression softened.

“You’re _not_ fine. You’re depleted…weak. You’ve gotten in your own head again, I can tell. Sitting up here sulking, feeling sorry for yourself and your lot in life. Neglecting your health, all over a woman.” She nodded at the thermos. “Replenish your strength, and then get your arse up from behind that desk and go see that girl.”

“What if she doesn’t—”

“She does. Trust me.”

Jefferson blinked, staring at the thermos. He _was_ hungry, dreadfully so. His jaw clenched as he opened the thermos, staring at the contents for a moment before pouring himself a glass of the crimson liquid. He hesitated a moment before downing it, hating himself for how good it tasted…and for how much he needed it.

Thermos finished, he sat back in the chair, eyes closed and breathing heavily, already feeling the blood’s rejuvenating effects.

“Well? Are you going to go see her, or not?”

Jefferson blinked an eye open in mock irritation. “You’re rather pushy, do you know that?”

“Young men need to be pushed.”

“I’m older than you, you old bat,” he muttered.

She scoffed. “Your bones may be old Jefferson, but your mind and heart are young…and naive. You need an old biddy like me around to keep you in line.”

Jefferson laughed as he stood and wrapped an arm around her waist, affectionately kissing the top of her grizzled, white hair. “I don’t know what I’d do without you Mrs. Conrad, do you know that?”

“Probably waste away to nothing, if left to your own devices…you’re lucky I agree to keep working here.” She chuckled and blushed at his display of affection, pushing his shoulder. “Get out of here! Go, see your girl—I feel like I’m in a gothic drama instead of the twenty-first century, with all this angst and pining.”

Twenty minutes later, Jefferson was out the front door, down his front steps and walking purposefully towards the morgue. It was situated on the edge of town, actually not far from his house.

Storybrooke was a typical Maine town, one long main street bisected with various side streets. There was the town park with a large wooded area that bordered one edge, near where the morgue and county offices were located. Jefferson’s house was located just at the edge of the woods, high on a hill overlooking the town.

Nervous excitement began to build in him as he pushed open the front door to the morgue. It was late at night, or rather, early in the morning, and the place was utterly deserted. Recalling his path from the previous night, he turned the corner and walked down the long hallway to the lab. Pushing open the door, he knocked and called out to Y/N, not wanting to startle her.

He was met with silence.

The lab was deserted as well. Jefferson frowned in confusion, then halted in his tracks—something was wrong. Everything was neatly put away, papers stacked neatly, and there was a slight tang of antiseptic spray that covered the general smell of death in the air. Common smells for a morgue, but underneath it all, Jefferson could smell fresh blood.

Her blood.

He followed the scent to the large red receptacle labeled ‘biohazard,’ and peered inside. Sure enough, there was a towel on top, soaked in red. All his senses immediately shot into overdrive.

“Y/N?” He called louder this time, and his voice held more of an edge.

She wasn’t here. Her coat was still in her open locker, though, and he remembered seeing her bicycle out front. Jefferson walked quickly to the front office and out the front door

Once outside he paused, sniffing the air and catching the scent of her blood again. He already knew it well. He looked down and saw a couple drops of red on the leaves scattered on the sidewalk. Bending down, he touched a finger to the blood spot and tasted it.

It _was_ hers, and it was fresh.

Jefferson was on his feet in a flash. He walked quickly, following the faint scent trail into the woods and towards the town center. Something was wrong—he knew it. Why would she just leave her coat and bicycle behind? It was freezing out. Y/N was hurt, she could be in trouble, and Jefferson had the sinking feeling it had something to do with him.

The trail cut across to the park, and soon he found himself walking down the broad avenue that bisected the wooded area. His eyes narrowed as he spotted a figure sitting alone on a bench.

As he drew closer, the scent of blood drew stronger. It _was_ Y/N, sitting on the park bench and crying into her sleeves. Her sobs broke his heart; in each he could hear her pain and fear. Jefferson stepped a little closer, and now he could hear her heartbeat, racing away in barely controlled panic.

Jefferson was starting to panic a bit himself. He didn’t know how badly she was injured, or what had happened to her. He hated it—it killed him to see her this way. She was so scared. Jefferson didn’t want to frighten her any further, so he let himself be heard walking up to her as he called out softly.

“Y/N?”

She gasped and whirled, stumbling to her feet. He heard her heartbeat kick up a notch, and the scalpel trembled in her hand, the moonlight glinting off the blade. Her eyes were wide with fear.

“It’s me, it’s just me—” he blurted, holding up his hands. “It’s all right, it’s just—”

“J-Jefferson?”

She took a wavering step towards him, and he closed the distance between them in a few strides, wrapping his arms around her. Being this close to her was almost unbearable, and the scent of her blood was doing things to him, things it shouldn’t have been doing so soon after he fed.

He could smell her. Her blood, the perfume she wore, her shampoo, and a scent that was just… _her_. It was like all his senses were heightened—he could see only her, every sharp detail, from the goosebumps on her skin to every hair that was out of place, all while her heartbeat thudded away in his ears. Despite his fear and worry for her, he felt a carnal hunger—a need that both embarrassed and frightened him.

_Good god, what the hell is wrong with you! Pull yourself together, Jefferson, she needs you!_

Whatever had happened, it had frightened her deeply. His heart broke to see her like this, and he murmured softly in her ear while she trembled against him.

“Shh…it’s all right, you’re safe. I’ve got you.”

Jefferson sank onto the park bench, taking her with him. He brushed his hands over her shoulders, pulling it away in shock when his hand came away slick with blood.

“Y/N, you’re bleeding. Y-You’re hurt.”

Now he was looking at her intently. She had a large gash across her temple, blood spilling down the side of her face and staining the collar of the scrubs she still wore. She was very pale, and he could see the bruised outline of fingers around her throat.

“What happened? Who did this to you?”

She clutched at him, burying her face in his neck. “It was that woman…that horrible woman. Regina.”

Jefferson went rigid at the name. In an instant, the carnal instinct that had been driven by her blood vanished, replaced with fear and guilt. This _was_ all his fault, he knew it. But there would be time for the guilt and the questions later—right now, she needed help.

“You’re safe now Y/N, she can’t hurt you.” He brushed the hair back from her eyes, cupping her cheek. “You need a doctor, I need to get you to a hospital. You—”

“No! No hospitals.” Y/N looked up at him, her eyes wide. “Jefferson I lied, I covered it up…if we go to a hospital they’ll ask questions… _she’ll_ know I lied.”

Jefferson’s heart sank. He had the feeling that this woman had done a lot more for him than just give him a bit of her blood. He had to do something. She was still bleeding heavily, and she probably had a concussion.

He nodded. “All right, no hospitals. You still need help though—come with me, my house isn’t far.”

He helped her to stand, noticing that she was favoring her left leg. At least she seemed to have calmed down somewhat. The temperature had dropped, and his jaw clenched when he saw she was shivering.

“Here—it’s freezing out, you’ll catch your death of cold.” He took off his topcoat, wrapped it around her shoulders, and she snuggled into its warmth. Jefferson didn’t mind—he didn’t feel the cold anyway.

After a few steps, he saw how badly she was limping, the pain and shock starting to wear in. Without a word he scooped her up in his arms, cradling her against his chest. She protested feebly, but quickly relaxed into his embrace.

“It’s okay, I’ve got you. You’re safe now,” he whispered.


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Chapter Warning: Blood, Injuries, Fluff, Angst, Smut (masturbation)
> 
> Series Warnings: 18+, Smut, Graphic Violence, Blood/Gore, Blood Drinking, Light details of an Autopsy/Medical Procedure, Angst, Fluff

Embarrassment flared as Jefferson lifted you in his arms. You started to protest, but he felt so good, so safe, that you relaxed, letting your head rest against his shoulder. The fabric of his brocade shirt felt soft, and his skin was surprisingly warm underneath.

Everything hurt. You felt like you were one giant ball of pain—even breathing hurt. Your head felt like it was going to split in two, your knee throbbed, and your shoulder was on fire. Jefferson spoke soothingly in your ear as he walked, and your eyes began to get heavy as the stress of the evening melted away. He must have noticed your eyes slip closed, because he shook you slightly.

“Stay with me Y/N, you’re going to be all right. It’s not that much farther now, you just need to keep your eyes open for me, darling.”

You blushed a little upon hearing the affectionate name, and Jefferson smiled down at you. His eyes were still creased with worry, but there was a warmth there that made your heart flutter. You nodded and nuzzled into his chest, and he pressed a light kiss to the top of your head.

Your eyes widened when you reached the top of the hill and saw his house. No, it wasn’t a house—it was a mansion. You’d seen it before on your rides through the park, standing silent and somber on the hill. By its outward appearance you’d assumed it was abandoned, or at the very most inhabited by a decrepit old curmudgeon. Jefferson strode purposefully up the steps towards the heavy oak front door, carrying you as if you weighed nothing.

You reached the top of the steps, and he lightly set you down. Keeping one hand under your arm to steady you, he reached up and rang the doorbell. You were confused for only a moment until you realized the keys you had found in his pocket last night were still sitting in an evidence bag in the morgue.

You swayed slightly and Jefferson looked down at you, his face drawn with concern. You felt his thumb brush down your arm, and he started to say something as the door opened.

“Jefferson! My saints boy, what happened?”

The speaker was an older woman, dressed in a somber black work shift. Her face was prim but warm, her eyes wide with surprise and concern.

“Mrs. Conrad, this is Y/N. She’s hurt and she needs help.”

“I can see that, you blundering fool, why didn’t you take her to the hospital?” she scolded as she stood aside to let you in.

“Not an option right now,” Jefferson answered tersely.

Mrs. Conrad took your other arm. “Come, my dear, I’ve got a fire going in the library. Jefferson, I’ll go get the supplies you need and then put on some tea. This girl’s half frozen.”

You blushed meekly. “Thank you, I don’t want to be a bother—”

“Nonsense. After everything you’ve done for me, it’s the least I can do,” Jefferson answered, his gaze softening.

They led you into a richly furnished room, and you almost halted in surprise. Books, floor to ceiling, some of them very old judging by the condition of their spines. The room was a complete contrast to the outside of the house, everything neat and tidy. The furnishings were decidedly Victorian—polished wood floors, thick carpets, exquisitely detailed wallpaper, all lit by the comforting glow from the huge carved fireplace.

Jefferson dragged an armchair closer to the fire and helped you to sit, wrapping you in a blanket. “Here, I need to get you warm, you’re still shivering.”

Mrs. Conrad returned with what looked like a large black medical bag, a basin of hot water, and some towels. Jefferson excused himself to go wash his hands, and she looked you over with a practiced eye.

“Are you wearing anything under your scrub top, dear? It’s going to have to come off so Jefferson can get a look at your shoulder, I’ll find you something to wear while I mend it.”

Mend it? “Th-that’s really not necessary Mrs. Conrad, I have a ton of them. I’m wearing a tank top underneath but,” you tried to raise your shoulder and winced, “I think I need some help getting it off.”

White hot pain lanced through your left shoulder every time you tried to raise your arm. Mrs. Conrad was gentle though, and between the two of you the shirt finally came off. She leaned close to the wound and frowned as Jefferson came back into the room.

“There’s still some glass in there, some of it quite deep. Have a care that you get it all, Jefferson. I’ll be back in a few with some tea, Y/N, and if you’re hungry I can bring up something from the kitchen.”

The mere suggestion of food made your stomach lurch. “Thanks, Mrs. Conrad, but I’m really not hungry at all.”

Jefferson caught your look as he rolled up his sleeves. “Are you still feeling dizzy? Nauseous?”

“It’s not too bad, but I’m pretty sure I’d hurl if I saw food right now.” You curled up on yourself in the chair—you actually felt awful. “I’m a little dizzy still, though.”

Jefferson let out a small huff and examined the gash on your head. His eyes were liquid with worry, a deep blue-grey that left you breathless.

“You probably have a concussion,” he said, gently smoothing your hair back away from the wound. “Just sit back and try to relax, I can have Mrs. Conrad bring something for the pain.”

Jefferson carefully examined your injuries. It seemed like your knee was badly bruised, but nothing seemed broken. Mrs. Conrad returned with the tea, and he asked her to bring some ice as well. When he got to the marks at your throat, his jaw clenched and his expression darkened. His fingers ghosted over the bruises left by Regina’s hand, and his eyes flicked to you.

“God, what did she do to you?” His look was one of anger and remorse. “I’m so sorry this happened to you, Y/N, this is all my fault.”

“What do you—”

Jefferson shook his head, pulling himself together. “We can talk more about that later. Right now, we need to get you patched up. Does your throat hurt?”

“A little.”

He nodded and handed you an unopened bottle of ibuprofen. “This will help with the pain and the swelling, I think…the tea should help too.”

“Thank you, Jefferson,” you said as you popped a few tablets into your mouth, chasing them with a swallow of tea that made you wince despite how good it tasted.

“I’m going to take a look at your shoulder now, it’s still bleeding pretty badly.”

“Right,” you smirked. Your sense of humor was returning as the warmth from the fire and Jefferson’s presence filled you. “Can’t have me bleeding all over the carpet, it looks expensive.”

Jefferson snorted, and he seemed to have calmed down somewhat as well. He moved to your back, and you hissed as he touched your shoulder, pain slicing freshly though you.

“Sorry! I’m sorry, there’s still some glass there…I’ll try to be as gentle as I can.”

The expression on his face was strained, but his hands were sure and steady as he picked the glass from the wound. Blood flowed freely down your shoulder, and he quickly grabbed a towel to stem it.

“This really is quite deep, and it needs stitches. I can do that, but…” Jefferson worried his lip between his teeth and lookup up at you timidly. “Do you remember how I closed the wound on your wrist last night? After…”

Oh. You blushed at the memory of last night—that’s why he seemed uncertain. It was almost as if he were embarrassed about doing it, but he had a point, it would be better than stitches.

You nodded, and gave him a small smile. “I remember, Jefferson, and I get what you’re trying to say. Go ahead.”

He looked at you, his eyes dark and his features indecipherable. Jefferson bent down over the wound on your shoulder, and you felt his breath ghost across your skin a moment before his tongue ran across the cuts. You gasped as you felt the wounds close and the pain fade to nothing.

“Are you all right?” he asked.

“Y-Yes.”

You were better than all right, your shoulder felt almost as good as new. Maybe a bit tingly and sore, but definitely much better.

“Does…does that work on any type of wound?”

Heat crept into Jefferson’s face, and he fidgeted. “Um…only on superficial injuries like this—not that this isn’t bad, it looks quite painful, erm…what I mean to say is…” he drifted off, looking uncomfortable.

He was awfully cute when he was awkwardly stumbling all over himself, but you felt bad for making him feel uncomfortable. After all, he was only trying to help.

He took a deep breath and tried again. “What I mean to say, is there’s another way I can heal, but it’s rather disgusting, and I don’t—”

You touched his arm, stopping him. “It’s okay Jefferson, I wasn’t suggesting…I was just interested, strictly from a medical point of view.”

“Ah.”

You smiled, and the worried expression on his face eased somewhat. You could sense he was concerned about you, of course, but he was also worried you might be afraid of him. He kept stealing peeks at you while he worked—his eyes still held concern for you, but there was also a gentle softness that melted your heart.

Jefferson cleaned the gash on your head and gently wiped the blood from your face and neck. He closed it the same way, although he warned it would do nothing for the concussion and headache.

As he worked, you stared at him. He was, without a doubt, the most beautiful man you’d ever seen. Having him this close to you made you tremble for an entirely different reason, and you felt a familiar heat pool within you. The process was incredibly intimate, his leg pressed against yours, his breath warm on your face as he worked. Even his scent was pleasant—the first dried leaves of autumn, pine sap and old books, the sky just before it rained. Everything that you loved.

You saw his eyes drift down to the cut at your throat, the one that had been made by Regina’s knife. His fingers drifted over it, and his expression tightened as he realized what had made it. He looked up at you for permission, his hand still on the back of your neck, and you tilted your head back.

Again, you felt his soft tongue glide over your wound, although this time it felt different. The pain disappeared as it stitched together, but Jefferson paused. His lips lingered over the pulsing skin a moment before he pressed a tender kiss to the spot. Your heart began to pound, and you felt your skin flush with desire.

He must have heard your racing heart, because he gripped your neck a little tighter and kissed your throat again. You murmured his name as his lips worked their way up your throat and along your jaw, each kiss leaving a trail of fire. He reached your lips, and the heat pooling in your core exploded into flames.

You pulled him closer and you felt his strong arms wrap around you, one hand threading its way through your hair. You melted into his embrace as his lips parted, and you whimpered as his tongue met yours.

Jefferson pushed back so suddenly the chair scratched across the floor. He sat there, breathing hard. His eyes were blown black and his hand was clamped tightly over his mouth, and you wondered if he was trying to hide his fangs.

“I’m sorry,” he mumbled, “that was inappropriate. I-I got carried away.”

“Jefferson, it’s okay. You didn’t upset me. I—”

“No…no. I shouldn’t have done that. You’re hurt and you’re tired, and I was taking advantage of you, I-I don’t know what came over me. This is the second time you’ve helped me…” Jefferson drifted off, and he looked at you with anguish. “You wouldn’t even be in this mess if it weren’t for my wretched meddling.”

“What are you talking about?”

“Regina—she’s a witch. She’s the one who tried to kill me. The only reason she would attack you…even go _near_ you, is if she were looking for me. She’s a vicious, cruel harpy on her best of days, and now I’ve put you in her sights.”

You shivered again, remembering her blood red lips and her cruel eyes. Jefferson was watching you, and his expression softened.

“I think you need to tell me what happened, if you’re up to it. I need to know what she said to you and what she was after. I’ve a pretty good idea, but I need to know so I can protect you from her.”

Protect you? Just what had you gotten yourself into? Witches and vampires? Attacks in the morgue at midnight? Lying to the police chief and covering up a crime?

Jefferson sensed that you needed a moment. He rubbed his hand down your arm soothingly, and then poured you another cup of tea. It was absolutely delicious, warming you from the inside and bolstering your courage.

“She wanted to see your body. She…somehow she knew you had been brought to the morgue, and she wanted to make sure you were dead,” you began. Jefferson watched you as you spoke, his gaze inscrutable.

“At first I lied and said nobody had been brought in matching that description, but she saw right though that. She…she choked me and said she would kill me if I didn’t tell her the truth. Then she threw me across the lab and hit me a couple of times. She’s really fast…and strong—it’s not natural.”

You looked up at Jefferson. His face was blank, but you could see anger boiling just beneath the surface. He swallowed it down, and when he spoke his voice was soft and gentle.

“She’s a witch. Her natural abilities have been magically enhanced.”

“Magic?”

He smiled faintly. “Yes. Magic.”

You blinked a couple of times.

_Okay, witches and vampires, why not magic too? What’s next, zombies?_

Jefferson took your hands in his, giving them a light squeeze. “I promise I’ll explain all of that, but please continue.”

“Um, okay…well, I saw I wouldn’t be able to outright lie to her, so I told her the same story I told the police chief this morning—Chief Swan bought it, by the way—and I even showed her the transfer paperwork. Regina was super pissed, she threatened me again but in the end she just took the paperwork and left. I, um, cleaned the lab up best I could, but I couldn’t stay there. I just left…wasn’t really sure where I was going, but that’s when you found me.”

You gave a small self-deprecating chuckle. “Not a very smart move on my part.”

Jefferson shook his head. “That was a terrifying experience, I doubt anyone else would have reacted differently. You were incredibly brave, Y/N, to stand up to her like that, all just to help me…”

He stood suddenly, and the loss of warmth from his hands felt like a void. Jefferson paced the library, clearly agitated. “Why do you keep helping me? You know full well what I am, yet you risked serious injury or…” he swallowed, unable to finish the sentence, “something infinitely worse.”

What were you supposed to tell him?

_I couldn’t stop thinking about you. I think you’re kind and gentle and funny, and there is something sad lurking in the depths of your eyes that makes me want to hold you and tell you it’ll be okay. I want to know everything about you, I want to feel your hands on my body and your lips on mine. I think I’m falling in love with you._

“I just…I just didn’t want her to hurt you again,” you said weakly. “I don’t like people hurting my friends.”

“Friends? Is that what we are?” He chuckled darkly. “Nobody wants to be friends with…a person like me.”

He was so disgusted with himself he couldn’t even say the word, and it broke your heart. You stood and walked over to where he stood by the window. Jefferson was twisting his hands together and you wrapped your hands around his, stilling his nervous fidgeting as you ran your thumb across his knuckles in reassurance.

“I don’t have many friends, but I trust you and I care about you, so that makes you a friend in my book.”

Jefferson stared at you for a long moment, emotions fliting across his face. Finally, he nodded, a small but genuine smile lighting up his features. You started to think maybe he didn’t have many friends, either.

“I can’t even begin to thank you for everything you’ve done for me,” he said. “We need to be careful, though. Regina might think I’m dead, but that still won’t stop her. She’ll keep digging, and she might even follow you to see if you lied.”

“But why did she want you dead in the first place?”

“Because I stole something from her,” Jefferson sighed. “It’s a rather long story, one that will have to wait until tomorrow, I’m afraid.”

He looked over at the window, and you saw that the sky had just started to lighten.

“So it’s true? Sunlight will hurt you?” Suddenly you were curious to know everything there was to know about vampires.

Jefferson laughed. “Not really. It burns a little, and over time it _will_ weaken me, but it’s mostly because of the spell.” Your eyebrows raised, and he continued. “Vampires can only be created through magic, and the spell only allows us to be active from dusk until dawn. After that…well, it’s like being dead. And every night, we’re reborn anew.”

He said it with a casual tone, yet there was a hint of sarcasm that betrayed his true feelings. Jefferson hated what he was, that’s why he couldn’t understand why you would want to help him. He truly thought himself undeserving of your friendship.

The two of you lapsed into silence while the sky began to lighten outside. The silence was comfortable, but there was a slight undercurrent of tension. You were suddenly aware of how close he was standing, and you had a sudden desire to feel his soft, full lips against yours again.

Finally, you shook yourself out of your stupor.

“Well I should get going then, it’s almost dawn, and I know—”

“Please stay,” he blurted. “It’s freezing outside, and you’re still hurt. You need to rest, Mrs. Conroy can fix up one of the rooms for you.”

“It’s okay, really, I don’t want to be a burden—”

“You’re never a burden. Not to me.”

His voice was low and thick with emotion, and you thought you could see something in his eyes that mirrored what you were feeling. For a moment, it looked like he wanted to kiss you again but he stopped himself, blinking rapidly and pulling you into his arms instead. You felt so safe, so warm, you could have fallen asleep right there on the spot.

Jefferson let out a long breath, and you felt his lips ghost over your temple. He seemed just as reluctant as you to break the embrace.

“Come. You’re practically asleep on your feet, and besides—we have a lot to discuss in the evening. You deserve to know everything.”

You felt much better as you followed him down the hall, but you were still very sore and your knee throbbed. Jefferson kept his hand under your arm for support, and you leaned gratefully against him. As you passed the kitchen, you saw Mrs. Conrad at the island, drinking some tea and reading a gardening magazine. Jefferson started to speak, but she cut him off.

“The room’s already made up, Jefferson.”

Jefferson sputtered. “H-How—”

“Call it women’s intuition,” she said, throwing a cheeky wink your way. “Y/N, I drew you a bath as well, I thought you might be a bit sore.”

You laughed. “Thank you, Mrs. Conrad.” A bath sounded amazing right now.

You reached the top of the stairs and Jefferson opened the door to the guest room, and you stifled a gasp. It was the nicest room you’d ever seen, rich furnishings that mirrored the library, complete with a four-post bed. Through the open bathroom door you could see an ancient claw foot tub, and the sight of the steam rising from its surface made you want to melt.

Jefferson seemed flustered. “All right, well, um, you should be quite comfortable here, if you need anything just call for Mrs. Conrad. If you wake before me, which you undoubtedly will, she’s usually down in the kitchen or out in the garden.”

He fidgeted, licking his lips nervously. “Y/N, I…I don’t want you to think you _have_ to stay, I realize now how pushy I was…If you want to leave, just let Mrs. Conrad know, and she can drive you home. I’m sure you’re very tired, and tonight has just been—”

“Jefferson.” You placed a hand on his chest, silencing his rambling. “I _want_ to stay. I’ll be here when you wake tonight, and you can tell me everything. I _want_ to hear it.”

You ran your hand up his chest to gently cup his jaw, feeling the muscles tighten under your touch. “Thank you, for finding me and helping me tonight, and…for letting me stay. I feel safe here with you.”

You tilted your head up and softly kissed his cheek. “Goodnight, Jefferson.”

For a moment he was speechless, but then the corner of his mouth tugged into a crooked smile.

“Goodnight, Y/N. Sleep well.”

***

The door shut behind her, and for a moment Jefferson just stood there, frozen on the spot. He reached up and touched his cheek—it still tingled from her kiss. Still in a daze, he crossed the hall to his own bedroom, shutting the door behind him and sitting down on the bed.

_“I want to stay…I’ll be here when you wake tonight, and you can tell me everything…I feel safe here with you.”_

She trusted him. She actually trusted him, and she cared about him. She said he was her friend, and she felt safe with him.

Jefferson sniffed, blinking back the wetness that was gathering in his eyes. It had been a very long time since anyone had said that to him. She was a rare woman indeed, to look past the monster that he was and see the man underneath. He felt an inexorable pull to her, far beyond the call of her blood.

Jefferson had very nearly let himself be swept away by her—he had almost lost control. Just feeling her blood rushing against his lips, her body held tightly in his arms and his name a breathy sigh in his ear undid him completely. And oh, the little whimper that escaped when they kissed…he wanted to kiss her again just to hear what other sounds she would make.

Jefferson flopped back onto the bed with a low growl, palming himself in frustration. He had never wanted another woman so badly in his life. He wanted her in every way possible. Not just physically and emotionally, but—god help him—he wanted to feed on her. He wanted to mark her and claim her as his own.

This wasn’t like him. He hadn’t felt this way since he was newly turned, and that thought alone terrified him. Part of him wanted to tell her to run as fast and as far as she could away from him, but he knew he couldn’t. He had inadvertently placed her in Regina’s sights, and he had to protect her—both from Regina, and himself.

Jefferson glanced at the window. The sky was beginning to lighten and he felt tired, but he still had a little time before dawn. He had to get himself under control.

Mrs. Conrad had left the thermos on his nightstand, and Jefferson opened it and downed its entire contents in one go. He sat back, his head spinning and his body thrumming with the taste of blood, but even that wasn’t enough to satiate his need.

Jefferson stood and walked into the bathroom, stripping and turning on the shower. The water was ice cold, but he couldn’t feel it—his skin was burning with unresolved sexual tension and bloodlust.

He laid his head against the wall of the shower and allowed himself to indulge in the thought of her. He imagined the feel of her naked skin pressed against his, her nimble fingers dancing over his body and down to where he needed her most. Oh, how good she would feel…how good she would taste. First, as he pleasured her, and then later, when he sank his fangs into the pulse at her throat and fed from her.

Jefferson groaned softly and began to pant as he worked himself into a frenzy, his head tilting back as the frigid water rained down upon him.

He could almost hear the sound of her heart thudding in his ears as he filled her, racing faster and faster until she came undone beneath him. He imagined her moaning his name as he came inside her, his fangs buried deeply in her neck and her hot blood coursing down his throat. Finally, the thought of her became too much.

Jefferson shoved his forearm into his mouth and bit down hard to stifle his cry as he released. He stood there, gasping for breath as he came back to himself, and he felt something warm trickling down his arm. Blood. His fangs were out, and he had bitten his arm quite badly.

He felt a flush of shame as he licked the wound, healing it. He cleaned up his mess and shut off the shower, pulling on a soft pair of sweatpants and a tee.

_What the hell is wrong with me?_

Jefferson prided himself on his restraint, but he constantly found himself losing control over the mere thought of her.

Somehow, inexplicably, she liked him. He knew she was attracted to him, and possibly even aroused by him, but the fact remained that she was alive and he was not. Not really, anyway. He was a devil, as Mrs. Conrad was so fond of pointing out, but Y/N…she was his angel, shining light down upon his wretched soul.

Jefferson loved her with every fiber of his being, but she was not for the likes of him.

After everything she had done for him, he simply could not lose control. He refused to drag her down with him—she was already in too deep, as evidenced by the attack upon her life tonight. He would watch over her and keep her safe until the entire mess with Regina had ended…until the curse was reversed and he was human once again. Then, and only then, would he allow himself to declare his love for her like he wanted to.

Jefferson sank beneath the covers, feeling his strength leave him with the dawn. His cheeks still burned with shame over his impure thoughts, but he felt a new resolve, and he smiled to himself as he slipped away into oblivion.

After decades of waiting to die, Jefferson finally had something to live for.


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Chapter Warning: *18+*, Smut, Fluff, Angst, Blood/Gore, Blood Drinking, Inaccurate Satanic Rituals/Witchcraft, Mentions of Death
> 
> Series Warnings: 18+, Smut, Graphic Violence, Blood/Gore, Blood Drinking, Light details of an Autopsy/Medical Procedure, Angst, Fluff

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The beginning of this chapter shows Jefferson being turned vampire in a satanic ritual. Everything's made up, but if you're overly religious this might bother you.

**October 31 st, 1912 – Salem, Massachusetts**

The witch trials that had taken place in the sleepy little town on the coast of Massachusetts had been over for centuries, but it was still a place of magic.

Dark magic.

Night had fallen, and evil had gathered once again in the clearing just south of town. The local historians loved to boast that it had once been used for sacrifices and satanic rituals, and for once, they were right. Torches lit a large circular area, and a cauldron bubbled away over a low fire as Jefferson was led to the edge of the woods.

Four hooded figures stood in the center of the circle, chanting softly while two more held him tightly. Jefferson tried to struggle, but the hands around his arms were like vices. He blanched when he saw the pentagram drawn on a low circular dais, a candle placed at each of its five points. It was just large enough to hold a man, and he whimpered when he saw the restraints laying open.

_Oh, dear Christ they’re going to sacrifice me._

Jefferson struggled harder, his heart slamming painfully against his ribs as he imagined the sorts of horrors this clearing had witnessed…horrors he seemed ultimately destined for.

“P-Please…don’t do this, Regina, I…I gave it back, I never—”

“Stop your whining Jefferson, it’s unbecoming.”

One of the figures pushed back their hood, revealing raven hair and bright red lips curled into a cruel smile. She turned and placed the spell book she was holding on a low table, giving the cauldron a brief stir before walking up to him.

“I warned you, Jefferson. I warned you what would happen if you tried to double cross me, yet here we are.”

Her fingers slid thoughtfully over the ceremonial dagger at her hip, and he flinched. Why…oh why did he ever get involved with these crazy people? All he had been trying to do was to put a bit of food on the table…okay yes, perhaps he had overreached a bit, but he had only taken a small trinket, and he had given it back. Surely that didn’t warrant—

“I’m disappointed in you Jefferson, I thought you would be a real asset to me, and now…now you’ve forced me to do something I was rather hoping to avoid…”

“Please, don’t kill me,” he begged. “I have a daughter, Grace…she’s only five…she’s waiting for me.”

Regina laughed, a cold and unpleasant sound. “Oh sweetheart, I’m not going to kill you…although you’ll wish you were dead before this night is through. No, I have something more fitting planned for you.”

Whatever color was left in his face quickly disappeared. Regina’s smile deepened and she stepped forward. She caressed his face mockingly, her blood red nails raking lightly over his skin. Jefferson shuddered. Her eyes flicked down to where his pulse beat wildly in his throat, and she grinned.

“You’re afraid, aren’t you Jefferson?” she taunted. “You are absolutely terrified right now.” She stepped back and her eyes narrowed.

“You should be.”

At her nod, his two captors led him up to the platform, stripping off his shirt. He kicked and struggled, but it was to no avail—they were too strong. Jefferson felt like he was going to faint. His eyes squeezed shut as they held him down against the cold wood and he shivered, frantically murmuring any prayer he could remember under his breath. 

His terror heightened as they strapped down his wrists and ankles, each limb placed along a line of the pentagram. The ropes cut into him painfully as he lay there, spread-eagled on his back and staring up at the full blood moon.

“You’ve heard of the _Maledicta Vampir_?”

Jefferson simply blinked up at her.

Regina shrugged. “Not to worry if you haven’t, you’ll soon become well acquainted with it.”

Out of the corner of his eye, he watched as one of the hooded figures dipped a ladle into the cauldron and poured the contents into a small wooden bowl. Jefferson was trembling, nearly out of his mind with fear, which only ratcheted up a notch when a man came into view, standing next to Regina.

He had longish hair and a somber suit, but what struck Jefferson most was his pallid complexion and his eyes, as dark as night and twice as sinister.

And then he grinned.

Fangs. Dear lord, the man had fangs…he was a vampire.

“This is my friend, Mr. Gold. He’s going to help me solve my little problem. You see Jefferson, your punishment _will_ be a death of sorts—you will live forever, feasting upon others, a cursed and miserable creature until you finally meet your end and burn in the fiery pits of hell for all eternity.”

Regina strolled back and forth, enjoying taunting him.

“Your beloved Grace will never see her father again, and you will watch her suffer. You’ll watch as she mourns you and grows old without you, because if you _do_ come close to her, she will die by your own hand. A newborn vampire is highly unstable, you know…it’s liable to attack anyone.”

“P-Please…please don’t do this, I’ll do anything you want, just…please…”

His pleas fell on deaf ears as Regina nodded to Mr. Gold, and he descended upon Jefferson.

He cried out as fangs pieced his throat and a stream of blood ran down onto the dais, soaking into the wood. Then Mr. Gold’s mouth fastened over the throbbing wound, and he began to drink. Jefferson choked and struggled against the bonds, but his movements began to slow as a strange euphoria settled over him.

Dimly, he was aware of Regina bending down, collecting some of his blood as it dripped off the dais. Everything was fuzzy and doubled, the world tilting crazily on its axis. She let it drop into the bowl, and the potion flashed for a moment in a brilliant display of crimson.

He fell back, completely powerless against the fiend latched to his throat. His vision swam through half-lidded eyes and his mouth fell open slightly as he felt himself begin to slow. Oven and over he murmured his daughter’s name, struggling to hold on to her memory.

“Mr. Gold, you need to stop, you’ve nearly bled him dry,” Regina ordered. Jefferson was barely breathing, looking up at the moon with sightless eyes. “Quickly now, before he slips away.”

The vampire removed his fangs from Jefferson’s throat and stood, leaving the wound pulsing sluggishly. He pushed back his coat sleeve and bit his own wrist, letting the blood flow into the bowl she held. The potion flashed again, illuminating the gruesome scene in the clearing.

“Malachi, Alfred, sit him up.”

Jefferson’s head rolled weakly to the side as Regina held the bowl to his lips and ordered him to drink. He clamped his lips tightly shut and feebly tried to turn his head, but he felt a fist collide with his stomach, and the bowl tipped back as he gasped for air.

The potion was vile. Viscous and coppery, it filled his mouth and nose. He coughed, and a hand gripped his hair tightly, forcing his head back. He couldn’t breathe, and he swallowed purely on instinct. Finally the hands released him and Jefferson slumped limply back against the dais as the figures gathered round.

They began to chant, and that was when it started to burn. He could feel the potion coursing through him, changing him. Limbs trembling, he writhed against his restraints as he felt the heat start to build past the point of tolerance. Jefferson panted and he threw his head back against the dais, his muscles cording as he broke out into a cold sweat.

It kept getting worse. His heart thudded away at an impossible pace, faster and faster as it tried to pound its way out of his chest. Jefferson’s back arched and his hands clenched, the ropes creaking ominously. His blood was liquid fire, burning away everything clean and pure until only the pain and darkness remained.

Jefferson began to scream.

He couldn’t see, couldn’t hear anything beyond the horrible chanting and the sound of his own blood rushing in his ears. He tried to pray, tried to think of Grace, but his mind was not his own anymore. Horrible images flashed across his closed lids—devils and demons, death and debauchery. It was as if he could feel his very soul blacken at the edges as every ounce of light it held deserted him.

The pain reached a fever pitch along with the frantic beating of his heart, and then it all stopped. His heart simply stopped, and Jefferson felt himself drift.

Suddenly, he was looking down at himself. Regina stepped forward, drawing symbols on his chest in blood—his blood. He was deathly pale, his hair slicked with sweat and his eyes closed. He looked dead, and then Jefferson realized that he was.

He barely had time to ponder this thought before he felt himself being sucked back into his body, and he opened new eyes to stare at the blood moon with hunger.

**Present Day – Storybrooke, ME**

It was still light when you awoke. For a moment, you couldn’t remember where you were. Unfamiliar sheets coiled around your body, certainly the nicest you’d ever seen, and you were dressed in clothes that didn’t belong to you.

Jefferson. You were in his house.

You’d dreamt about him. Warm hands on your body, sweet words in your ear and soft lips against yours. You had woken sometime around noon, the sheets tangled and your skin flushed, a telltale pool of wetness between your legs and an unanswered throbbing in your core.

You were in love with Jefferson. Sudden and all-encompassing, head-over-heels love. He was all you could think about, every minute of the day. His dazzling eyes and kind smile, his gentle, awkward nature, darkness mixed with light. Hints of sadness that lay in the depths of his stormy blue eyes. You longed to run your hands over every inch of his flawless body, to hear him moan your name as he filled you.

You had it bad, no doubt about that. You weren’t exactly the type to fling yourself at another man—just the opposite, really. Love had never come easily to you, and to be swept away by it like this took your breath away.

You lay back and glanced at the clock. Four in the afternoon. Jefferson was still sleeping, right in the next room, and just knowing he was near made you feel safe. The events of last night still troubled you, and although you still felt fear at the thought of meeting Regina again, you also felt a surge of anger. She’d hurt you, and she almost killed Jefferson.

It almost seemed absurd, but you felt protective of him. You knew he was more than capable of taking care of himself, but you still had a desire to hold him and shield him from every bad thing in the world. To tell him it was going to be okay, and to try to ease some of the horrible self-loathing he felt.

You lay there for several long minutes, thinking about the predicament you were both in. Answers. That was what you needed. You couldn’t begin to help him until you had the whole story, something he promised you would hear tonight.

Slowly you sat up, wincing at the stiffness in your leg. Your headache was virtually gone, as was the pain in your shoulder. You looked in the mirror. The bruises had colored nicely overnight and you grimaced, wishing you had a scarf or something to cover them up.

Looking around the room, you noticed your scrubs lying washed, mended, and folded at the foot of the bed. You sighed in relief—you were wearing sweatpants and a tee that were several sizes too large, and you had the suspicion they were Jefferson’s. You hadn’t looked forward to spending the evening trying to keep your pants from falling down.

You dressed, and went downstairs in search of Mrs. Conrad.

You found her at the stove, and she turned with a smile when she saw you enter. Whatever she was cooking smelled heavenly, and your stomach growled.

“Good afternoon, Miss Y/N, how are you feeling?”

You smiled back. Her good mood was infectious. “Much better, Mrs. Conrad, thank you. And please—Y/N is fine.”

“All right then, as you will.” She pulled a couple of stoneware bowls down from the cupboards and ladled some of the soup into each. “I was just finishing up with the dinner, I expect you’re quite famished.”

“Thank you, it smells wonderful.”

A couple of sandwiches were added alongside the bowls, and she sat down at the kitchen table, gesturing for you to sit. “Go ahead lass, tuck in.”

You detected a hint of Scottish brogue in her voice, and you wondered just how old she really was. Smiling politely, you tasted the soup. Butternut squash, rich and thick with just the right ratio of salty sweetness, perfect for a cold fall day.

You groaned. “Oh my god, Mrs. Conrad, I think this is the best soup I’ve ever had.”

“Thank you,” she beamed. “I’m glad you like it, it’s nice to have someone else to enjoy my cooking other than myself. Good food is utterly lost on Jefferson.”

“So, how long have you been working for him?”

Mrs. Conrad got a far off look in her eye as she calculated. “Let’s see now, it’ll be…sixty years come this June.”

You blinked. “Sixty years?”

“Yes, I took over after my dear mother passed, god rest her soul.”

You drifted off into silence, processing this last bit of information.

“Mrs. Conrad? Sorry if this is a strange question, but how _did_ you get this job? I mean, it’s not really something you see in the papers— ‘Wanted: Housekeeper and Caretaker for a hundred-year-old vampire.’”

She laughed. “A very logical question, my dear. My family has looked after Jefferson for years—my mother before me, and her mother before that.”

“But…why?”

“Oh that’s simple—we’re witches.”

You went rigid and nearly choked on your soup, your thoughts immediately recalling blood red lips and raven hair. Mrs. Conrad saw your distress, and she smiled kindly.

“Not that kind of witch—I’m a white witch. I follow the light, protecting others from dark magic, and occasionally guiding those who have fallen victim to it.”

You frowned, and your heart fell. Victim. You hadn’t thought about how Jefferson might have become a vampire, and hearing that, you weren’t sure you wanted to know. Mrs. Conrad caught your look, and her expression softened.

“Jefferson has been through hell and he’s lost nearly everything he’s held dear. He was a lost soul for many years, and since he came to us he’s been driven with a single purpose…until now.”

You weren’t sure what she meant by that last comment. “What do you mean? Why was he turned?”

Mrs. Conrad shook her head. “That’s not my story to tell, lass. He’ll tell you, if you ask him.”

She looked at you with a twinkle in her eye, and you blushed, returning to your meal. She continued, her gaze distant.

“When I first met Jefferson he was very much like the man you know today…maybe not quite as beaten-down, a little rougher around the edges, but still the same.” Her smile faltered, and she looked at you sadly. “He wasn’t always that way.

“My grandmother was the first to find him and take him under her wing not long after he’d been turned. Jefferson had been on his own for a few years, and a newborn vampire is a terrifying thing to behold. He was wild, vicious, a slave to his emotions and hunger, and a danger to everyone around him.”

She pointed the spoon at you, her gaze sharp, and you could feel the pride and affection she had for her charge. “Yet he was still there, which is more than can be said for some who have shared his fate. He was still trying to fight the instincts, trying to preserve any humanity he had left. Jefferson is a strong man, a _good_ man. My grandmother saw something in him, and she decided to save him.”

“Save him?” You were confused. “But he’s still a vampire.”

“Not turn him back, no. That spell can only be found in the _Cartea Morților,_ the Romanian Book of the Dead. Regina’s been in possession of it for centuries—it was that very spell book that Jefferson stole the night she staked him and he was brought to you.”

The two of you lapsed into companionable silence, the only sound the clinking of spoons against bowls and the tick of the kitchen clock. Your head was spinning, trying to process everything. Finally, Mrs. Conrad sat back from the table, folding her hands primly in her lap.

“This…might not be my place to say this, but if I leave that great fool to his own devices…”

She drifted off, and you were just going to ask what she meant when she spoke again.

“He’s different around you. My Jefferson is a dark and troubled soul, but when he looks at you…the way he speaks of you…it’s as if he’s lit from the inside. When he smiles, it’s the look of someone who has found true happiness. There’s only one person who has ever made him look like that, and that was his daughter Grace.”

She didn’t elaborate, and you didn’t ask. You thought again of the little girl in the pocket watch. You’d noticed her use of the past tense, and had a feeling that was a story that hadn’t ended well.

Mrs. Conrad reached across the table and took your hand. “I only say this because I see the same look in your eyes. I’m not trying to push anything my dear, I’m simply letting you know how stubborn of a man he can be when he puts his mind to it.

“Jefferson hates what he is, and he thinks himself undeserving of love. He’s awkward and mercurial, even a bit eccentric at times, but he’s got a heart of gold. If you let him, he will love you forever and follow you to the ends of the earth. But _you’re_ going to have to make the first move, because he never will.”

You were stunned. How the old woman could see all of that was beyond you, but maybe there was something there after all. You didn’t get to ask her any further questions, however, because just at that moment, Jefferson entered the kitchen.

“Good evening, ladies.”

Jefferson was beaming at you—Mrs. Conrad was right, he almost looked lit from the inside. His smile was light and warm, his eyes sparkling with joy when he saw you. She nodded hello and gathered the plates, tottering off towards the refrigerator, leaving the two of you alone.

Jefferson’s finger tentatively grazed your outstretched hand. “How are you, Y/N? Are you feeling any better?”

You smiled and took his hand in yours, noting the way his breathing picked up. “Much, Jefferson, thank you for letting me stay here.”

“Of course, like I said, it’s—”

“—the least you can do, I know,” you said, finishing his sentence with a smirk. “You’ve mentioned it once or twice.”

Jefferson chuckled nervously. “Yes, I believe I did. I also believe I promised you a full explanation tonight. Would you accompany me to the library? We can—”

Mrs. Conrad set a thermos heavily down on the table in front of Jefferson, and fixed him with a pointed stare.

“No one’s accompanying anyone anywhere until you’ve fed, Jefferson. I know you two lovebirds will be up till all hours of the morning, chittering away until you’ve neglected yourself once again.”

Her gaze softened, and she delicately set a teacup in front of you. “For you, my dear, please forgive this one’s uncouth behavior, he’s not used to entertaining members of the delicate sex.”

Jefferson snorted. “And what exactly would you call yourself, you old busybody?”

“The voice of reason,” she said simply.

Jefferson burst out laughing, and you joined in as she smirked and walked upstairs, leaving the two of you alone.

“Oh my god, she’s terrifying,” you giggled.

Jefferson laughed, and you loved the way his eyes lit up. “Yes, she’s a tiresome old battle-axe, but she’s somehow managed to keep me in line.”

“Can I ask what’s in the thermos?”

The smile disappeared from his face. “Blood.”

He looked down, ashamed. You placed your hand atop his, curling your fingers around his hand. Once again, he felt cold, and you wondered if the fluctuations in his body heat had to do with feeding.

“Jefferson, you don’t have to be ashamed of what you are in front of me. I see the kind of man you truly are, and you’re not the monster you’re making yourself out to be.”

His lips twitched in a sad smile. “It’s because you don’t know any better.”

He sighed deeply and unscrewed the thermos, leveling a glance at you. Almost as if he were curious as to what your reaction would be. He raised it to his lips and drank, maintaining eye contact at first, but his eyes soon fluttered closed in satisfaction.

You watched his throat move as he drank, enraptured. He set the empty thermos down, licking his lips and breathing heavily. You had the sudden desire to kiss him, to taste him and feel his body pressed against yours.

Jefferson’s eyes were blown black, and as his lips parted, you could see his fangs. You shivered and your breath hitched, but not out of fear—out of desire. His gaze dropped from your eyes to your lips, to your breasts, and then lower, hungrily roving over your body and sending a thrill of excitement through you.

Suddenly he stood, clearing his throat and running a hand through his hair in agitation. He snatched up the thermos and brought it to the sink, seemingly wanting to put as much distance as possible between the two of you.

“Jefferson—”

“All right, well…that’s that, now the old biddy’s had her way, let’s go to the library, shall we?”

That was the second time he’d freaked out after getting close to you. He was clearly upset—maybe Mrs. Conrad was wrong about his feelings. You’d better tone it down a bit.

Still, he offered you his hand, and you took it.

“You’re not limping as badly, are you still very sore?” he asked.

“Not after that bath last night, it was just like magic—wait.” You turned to him, your eyes wide. “She put something in it, didn’t she?”

Jefferson laughed. “I see Mrs. Conrad told you about her origins. Yes, she still dabbles in magic, mostly herbology and whatnot. Some of it’s quite useful.”

“Wow.” You blinked in amazement as he led you back to the library. Seeing your interest in the subject, Jefferson continued.

“Magic has all but died out—there’s not much left in the world. All that remains are a few wretched creatures like Regina and me, scrabbling for that last little bit.”

You bit your lip, positively bursting with questions. “So…do you practice magic? Are you like, a wizard or something?”

Jefferson roared with laughter. “Goodness no! This isn’t Harry Potter—wands and broomsticks and rubbish like that. No, I was a perfectly normal man once, and I only stumbled upon this world through regrettable misfortune.”

Jefferson was born on August 9th, 1887. He’d grown up in Boston, Massachusetts, the son of a wealthy apothecary. His father had expanded the family business throughout the state, and was planning on opening up shops in New York City before business ground to a halt after his untimely death in a carriage accident.

Jefferson’s mother was inconsolable, and followed her husband to the grave a year later, leaving the business and the estate solely to Jefferson. He had an older sister, Rebecca, but she had married young and well, and was content living with her husband in Chicago.

Having been sent to the best boarding schools and groomed from a young age to succeed his father as the head of the family business, Jefferson immediately took over. However, he tired quickly with the life of a businessman, and soon left the running of the company to others.

“I was young and foolish,” he explained. “Adventure, cheap thrills and women, that’s what I wanted out of life. I wasn’t allowed to choose much for myself, so when I had a chance to have a little fun, I made the most out of it.”

“What did you do?”

“Drinking, gambling, all sorts of debauchery. The people I ran with were a tough crowd, but their dark world glittered with a kaleidoscope of color compared to the gilded cage in which I’d been placed.”

He looked at you, his face deadly serious. “I sought the darkness Y/N, and in the end, it found me. I brought this upon myself, and have no one else to blame for my troubles.”

Jefferson was a conman and a thief. He didn’t need the money, he simply did it for the thrill. It was all a game to him. The people he called his friends operated at the fringes of a much darker world—the world of magic. The more he learned, the more fascinated he became, and soon he was taking odd jobs hunting for magical artifacts.

“It’s how I came to be in possession of the hat,” he said. “Very useful for a thief.”

It was a dusty old top hat, imbued with magical powers. One tap from the matching pocket watch, and an object would be instantly transported into the hat. A way to make something valuable disappear.

You giggled with delight as Jefferson showed you, his own face lighting up as he watched you.

“Here, you try,” he said, handing you the pocket watch.

“But I’m not—”

“I told you, I’m nothing special.”

You looked up at him, narrowing your eyes. “You are to me.”

Jefferson swallowed thickly as you took the watch from him. The intense mood quickly dissolved, however, as you made a small book on his desk disappear and reappear in the hat.

“That is so cool,” you laughed, shaking your head.

You sat together on the couch, staring into the roaring fire and talking long into the night, just as Mrs. Conrad had predicted. Jefferson seemed much more at ease with you, occasionally brushing your arm affectionately. Slowly the two of you had eased closer to one another, until your shoulders and legs were touching. Neither of you pulled away.

Jefferson pulled your hand in his lap and he played with your fingers nervously as he told you how he became a vampire. He had lost the business when the economy had crashed in the early 1910’s, and had become more desperate when it looked like he would lose his house as well. He’d started working for Regina, but when he tried to double-cross her for the promise of more money, she’d had him turned as punishment.

The story was horrifying, and Jefferson spared you no detail. A satanic ritual performed by a coven of witches, in Salem, no less. It seemed as if he was looking to shock you, to prove to you what a monster he was. How he preyed upon others, wild and driven nearly mad with hunger, until Mrs. Conrad’s grandmother found him and helped him to control his urges.

Still, you didn’t see him as a monster. His was a tragic story, and you noticed that he failed to mention the worst part of it—his daughter, Grace. You sensed that was a very personal subject for him, a story for another time, perhaps.

He explained how he came to be in the graveyard that night with Regina, and why he’d stolen the _Cartea Morților._ He wanted to reverse the curse and save his soul, and die a free man. You suspected it also had something to do with Grace, a way of seeing her again in the afterlife, because she surely had to be dead.

It made your heart ache, to hear what he’d gone through. He’d led a tragic and lonely existence—over a hundred years’ worth—too afraid to reach out to anyone for fear he’d hurt them.

“I want to help you,” you said suddenly.

“Wh-what?”

“I want to help you,” you said again. “I don’t know what I can do, but if there’s any way I can help, I want to do it.”

He didn’t say anything, he just looked down at his lap almost guiltily.

“Jefferson, you’re a good man. You’ve been through so much, you’ve seen so much heartache and suffering. Please let me help you—you deserve saving.”

He looked at you, his eyes liquid with misery. “Why would you want to save a wretched soul like me?” he whispered.

You didn’t say anything, but he wouldn’t let it go. “Why?”

This was it. You knew exactly how you felt about him. It didn’t matter what Jefferson thought of himself, you could see through to the man he truly was, and you loved him, more intensely that you had ever loved another man. It didn’t matter what he was—the heart wants what the heart wants.

Right now your heart was racing, pounding painfully in your throat. You weren’t sure if Jefferson could hear it or not—sometimes it seemed like he could. He was tense, staring at you with an indiscernible look on his face that did nothing to settle your nerves.

“Why?” he asked again, his voice a hoarse whisper.

You took a deep breath, and looked him right in the eye.

“Because I’m in love with you Jefferson.”

His mouth slammed shut. “Y-You can’t.”

Your heart fell. Jefferson’s face was flushed, and he immediately scooted back, putting distance between the two of you. He shook his head and twisted his hands together. You saw he was shaking.

“You…you don’t know what you’re saying. I’m dangerous…you have no idea—”

“Jefferson—”

“No! You can’t love someone like me. I’m a monster—I’m not even alive!” He was on his feet now, pacing anxiously. “You think that I’m this tragic figure, but you have _no idea_ how dangerous I can be. I could kill you in a heartbeat, and there would be nothing you could do to stop it! You don’t have a clue—"

“I’m just a silly girl, playing with fire, is that it?”

Now you were on your feet as well, masking your hurt and embarrassment with anger. Anger that he kept insisting that he was a monster, refusing to see any good in himself.

“I’m no good for you, Y/N.”

“Shouldn’t I be the judge of that?”

You reached out to place a hand on his arm, and he flinched away from you.

“Don’t touch me.”

You stepped back as if you’d been slapped.

“S-So that’s it then? Don’t you care for me at all?”

Jefferson was silent, and he wouldn’t meet your eye. He was upset, the bitterness radiating off him in waves. His hands were fisted at his sides, and a muscle worked in his jaw.

So there it was…blatant rejection. Mrs. Conrad had been wrong about him after all. The world felt like it was crumbling all around you, and there suddenly wasn’t enough air in the room. You clenched your jaw and blinked back the tears. You couldn’t bring yourself to look at him.

“I…I have to leave. I can’t…I’ll see you around, Jefferson.”

Nothing. You nodded bitterly and turned, walking swiftly towards the door.

“Y/N, no—wait!”

You didn’t slow. You felt so embarrassed, so heartbroken at his rejection, you didn’t want to hear any more excuses as to why he wasn’t good for you.

“Please—stop!”

Jefferson’s hand closed around your arm firmly, and he spun you around. Something darkly possessive flashed in the depths of his eyes. It made your belly flare with heat, but you promptly snuffed it out. He didn’t want you.

“Let me go.”

You twisted in his grip, but he held you tightly. “No.”

“I’m not interested in playing games, Jefferson,” you said, your voice flat and lifeless.

“Games?”

“One minute you make me feel like…” you trailed off as your eyes started to burn. “And then the next, you’re pushing me away. You’re giving me whiplash.”

He didn’t say anything, but he didn’t let you go, either.

“I get it. I’m just naive, in love with someone I don’t understand and who doesn’t feel the same way. It’s all right, I’m not mad, I just…I need some space.”

You tried to pull away again, but he held you fast. “Please let me go,” you whispered, your voice breaking on the last word.

Jefferson shut the door gently but firmly. He was trembling, and he looked seconds from tears himself. His eyes were darting back and forth, looking at everything and nothing, all at once. Finally, they rested on you.

His head dipped once, bending towards you before he stopped himself, blinking hard. His chest rose and fell rapidly as his eyes flicked back and forth between yours, and then something shifted deep within them.

“Jefferson?”

Your breath was cut off as his hands came up to grasp your face, firmly but gently. Then his lips met yours, and your brain stopped.

The kiss was unlike any you’d shared before. It was passionate and hungry, his mouth working against yours as his tongue licked into your mouth. He pressed you back against the doorframe. You moaned as he leaned into you, his body warm and solid beneath the silky touch of his shirt. His lips worked across your jaw and down your throat, where he paused, resting his forehead on your shoulder and breathing heavily.

Slowly his head raised. One hand remained wrapped around your waist, holding you close, while the other tenderly bushed the hair back from your eyes.

“I…I always fancied myself a man of great control,” he said, “but when you’re near…Y/N, I have none at all. I’m as weak as a kitten around you, and I can’t hold back anymore.”

He kissed you again.

“I don’t want to,” he murmured against your lips.

You noticed that although his eyes were dark with desire, his fangs weren’t out. This was _him_ , not bloodlust or whatever other carnal urges his vampirism brought. Just him.

“I love you,” he said simply.

You inhaled sharply at his words. Jefferson pulled back and stared at you as if you were the most precious thing in the world.

“I love you, Y/N. Goddamnit, I love you to the very depths of my soul. I would do anything for you, I would burn in a thousand hells for you, just to see you safe and happy. I can’t breathe without you, and whatever’s left of my cold, dead heart…I give it to you freely. If…If you still want me, I’m completely yours.”

You surged forward, knocking him back in surprise. The fool still half-believed you wouldn’t want him, even after all of that.

Well, you’d just have to show him differently.

“I love you, Jefferson,” you murmured between kisses. “and I want you.”

Your fingers brushed the knot of his scarf, slowly untying it. His breath caught as you traced the dimple in his chin, down his throat to rest at the hollow where his collarbones met. You lightly fingered the top button on his shirt, looking up at him and asking permission.

He nodded minutely, and you slowly started to unbutton his shirt and vest. His eyes fluttered closed and he drew in a shaky breath as your hands slipped beneath the fabric, tracing the hard lines of his body and making him tremble with want.

The shirt fell to the floor, and you stared in awe, his flawless body lit by the firelight. Jefferson saw the look in your eye, or maybe he heard the tempo of your heart increase, because his hands tightened around your waist, slipping up underneath your shirt to touch bare skin.

With that single touch, any restraint either of you still held evaporated. Your lips smashed together again, teeth clicking and tongues caressing as hands frantically tore at what remained of your clothes. Jefferson pulled you back, laying you down on a plush rug in front of the fireplace.

Within minutes you were both naked, lying skin-to-skin and feeling like the fire would consume you both. Jefferson’s hand slid down between your legs as his tongue ran sinfully over your nipples, and he groaned when he felt the wetness pooled there. He ground his hips against you and began to caress the sensitive skin there, but you stopped him.

“You. I need you, now.”

It came out a bit more forceful than you intended, but Jefferson’s eyes flashed darkly hearing your urgency. He swiftly rolled on top of you, positioned himself between your legs and pushed into you slowly. He groaned loudly and your fingers dug into his back as he filled you, leaving you dizzy with ecstasy as he bottomed out.

He pushed against you, staring at you in wonder as if he could see the depths of your soul. Slowly he began to move.

Soon, the room was filled with the sounds of panting and stifled cries as you fell into a rhythm together, building momentum as the heat in your core flared out of control. Your head fell back and you arched against him as you came undone, crying his name.

Hearing that pushed Jefferson over the edge. His thrusts became erratic and you felt his stomach tense seconds before he released inside you with a gasp.

For several long minutes neither of you moved as you slowly came down from your high. Bodies slicked with sweat and legs intertwined, you both just stared at each other in wonder at what had just happened.

Jefferson wrapped his arms around you in a tight embrace and laid his head against your chest, listening to your heartbeat. He was so still and so quiet you wondered if he’d fallen asleep. Then his shoulders began to shake and you felt wetness against your breasts, and you realized he was crying.

“Jefferson,” you said in alarm, trying to see his face, “Jefferson, honey, what’s wrong?”

He sniffed and wiped his face, but when he looked up at you he was smiling.

“Nothing. Absolutely nothing,” he said. “For the first time in a very long time, I feel like everything is as it should be. I love you, Y/N.”

He gently kissed your lips, and you smiled back.

“I love you too, Jefferson.”


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Chapter Warning: Fluff
> 
> Series Warnings: 18+, Smut, Graphic Violence, Blood/Gore, Blood Drinking, Light details of an Autopsy/Medical Procedure, Angst, Fluff

You lay in front of the fireplace for what seemed like hours, cuddling and caressing each other’s bodies. It seemed like once that final bridge had been crossed neither of you could keep your hands off one another. Finally though, you began to get cold, and he saw you shiver.

Jefferson helped you to your feet, and you both sorted out the clothing, grinning shyly at each other. He pulled you in for another kiss.

“I love you,” he said, smiling at you. “I will never get tired of saying that.”

“And I’ll never get tired of hearing it. I love you too, Jefferson.”

Lips parted, and his tongue skated across your bottom lip before he bit it playfully. Your eyes flashed, and you gripped his hair, tugging him closer. Jefferson chuckled and pulled back slightly, breathing deeply.

“I could ravage you all night, my dear, but I still owe you more of an explanation. That is, if you still want to hear it.”

You nodded. “I meant what I said, Jefferson. I want to help you, if you’ll let me.”

He was silent a moment, considering. He fidgeted, looking into your eyes as if searching for something. Finally, he nodded.

“All right, but only if it won’t place you in any danger. You’re already in far too much for my liking, but still…it would help to have an extra set of eyes.”

“Thank you.”

He took your hand and led you once again to the couch. Excusing himself, he left for a moment, returning with a fresh pot of tea and a large leather book. You frowned as he poured you both a cup.

“So…you can eat and drink, um, real food?”

Jefferson smiled. “I can, but it doesn’t do much for me. I’ll admit I do have a fondness for tea, though. It calms me…although the benefits are purely in my head.”

He scooted close to you and placed the book on both of your laps. Opening it, you saw it was a large family photo album. Jefferson flipped through the first few pages quickly, showing you yellowed photographs of his parents and sisters. You smiled seeing photos of him as a child, watching as he grew into a handsome young man. He blushed, seeing the look on your face.

It was a bit surreal, seeing him posed in formal old photos like ones you’d seen in museums. You shook your head, looking at him in amazement.

“You really are a hundred and thirty two years old.”

He sighed, and you felt the weight of all those years in that single breath. “I’ve been around a very long time,” he said sadly.

He flipped the page, and you understood.

On the left was a family portrait. Jefferson standing, a pretty young woman seated next to him. She was holding a baby girl. Jefferson ran his fingers lovingly over the photograph on the right, and you recognized it as an enlargement of the picture from the pocket watch.

“She’s your daughter, isn’t she?” you asked softly.

The faintest of smiles crossed his lips. “Her name was Grace, and she was the light of my life. My sweet, sweet girl.”

Was.

You could see how hard this was for him to talk about. You didn’t say anything, you merely looked at him and encouraged him to continue. Jefferson took a deep and shuddering breath, and began to speak.

“It was an arranged marriage, Alice and I. That’s just how things were done amongst the upper class in those days, and while ours wasn’t the happiest of marriages, it did result in Grace.”

He fingered the family portrait. “We loved each other in our own ways, I supposed, but it was mostly a relationship of cordiality and convenience, until Grace came along. We doted on her…such a sweet and loving child, high-spirited and full of wonder.”

He laughed, and his eyes crinkled at the edges. “She was such a curious child, constantly getting into trouble. Her mother was a bit more formal, and Grace could be quite the little lady when the occasion called for it. I loved her spirit, though. Every spare moment I had was spent with her, we’d make up games and have grand adventures.”

He paused, looking around at the room. “The estate in Massachusetts was sprawling and extravagant, but Grace was happiest here. She loved the woods…she’d make up fantastic tales about witches and trolls, pirates and kings…she had quite the imagination.”

The house had been a summer retreat for his family as far back as the Revolutionary War. After the business was lost, Jefferson sold the estate in Massachusetts and moved the family up to Storybrooke. He tried to make an honest go of it, for his family. But times were tough, and it looked like he’d lose this house as well.

Then Alice and Grace had gotten sick.

“Scarlet fever,” he said. “It took Alice quickly, and I thought I’d lose Grace as well. I was out of my mind with grief and worry…those were some of the darkest days of my life.”

Jefferson sighed, looking down at the portrait. “Alice was a sweet girl, and her death upset me, but ours was no great love. I wasn’t always the easiest to live with. Still, I was heartbroken when I lost her, and if I’d lost Grace as well…I don’t think I would’ve survived.”

You took his hand and intertwined your fingers with his, and he looked at you gratefully.

“Grace recovered though, and we buried her mother that fall. That was only the beginning of our troubles, however. The doctor’s bills were astronomical, and I was struggling. I was working for the local druggist, but I could barely make ends meet. All the help was laid off. We were going to have to sell the house, and in those days, no one would’ve wanted to buy something this grand. I could barely put food on the table, and Grace spent long hours at work with me because there was no one else to watch her. It was no way for a child to live.”

His jaw clenched. “Then I made the worst decision I’ve ever made in my life. I returned to my life of thievery, working for a witch named Regina.”

You stiffened.

“The pay was good, but after a few months I saw an opportunity to get us out of that life, once and for all. A rival coven offered me nearly triple to bring my latest conquest to them instead of Regina, and I took the gamble.

“I lost. Regina found out, and you know the rest. Grace, she…” he swallowed thickly, his eyes beginning to water. “She’d been staying with a neighbor, and they simply never heard from me again. Grace begged me not to go, but I didn’t listen. I kissed the top of her head and told her I loved her, promising I’d be home by teatime.”

You could feel the strength of his emotions bubbling just below the surface. “My fate was infinitely worse than death, for both of us. I was mad with hunger, out of control and striking down innocents, just to slake my thirst. And Grace...she thought I’d simply abandoned her. I couldn’t go near her, because if I did…I’d…” he shuddered, unable to continue.

“How did you get this?” you asked, indicating the photo album.

He looked ashamed. “I stole it. Grace was adopted by the neighbor. I waited until the family was gone on vacation, so there would be absolutely no chance of me attacking them, and I stole it. I just…I had to have pictures of her, they’re all I had left of her at the time.”

The look on his face broke your heart. Gently, you set the photo album on the coffee table, and wrapped your arms around him. Jefferson was stiff with grief, but at your touch he melted. You both sat there like that for some time, the fire crackling in the background while you gently ran your fingers through his hair.

Finally, Jefferson sat back with a sigh. Kissing your cheek, he stood and offered you his hand.

“Come, I…I want to show you something.”

You took it, and he led you back up the stairs. He stopped at the door next to yours and pulled a skeleton key from his pocket. He had to jiggle the key in the lock, but it finally yielded, and he pushed the door open, stepping aside for you to enter.

It was a child’s room. Everything was left untouched, a thick layer of dust over it all. A small wrought-iron bed, made neatly in the corner. A dollhouse, the white paint peeling and yellowed. A small tea set, laid out at a child’s table, dolls and stuffed animals in attendance.

“This is Grace’s room…these are her things,” you said softly.

Jefferson smiled sadly, seeing you piece it together. “The house was shuttered, after I…left. The economy was so bad no one knew what to do with it, so they simply boarded it up. The family that adopted Grace moved down to Boston, and I just lived here, keeping my distance.”

He swiped a finger across the dust gathered on the dresser, but the look on his face was not one of disgust—it was one of infinite sadness.

“After Mrs. Conrad’s grandmother found me and helped me to control my urges, I was able to visit Grace. Not in person of course, but from a distance. I watched her blossom into a beautiful young woman. I saw her marry. I saw her play with her children. After each visit I would come back to my dilapidated gothic mansion, and sit up in this room for hours, drowning in misery and regret.”

His lips tightened, and his chin quivered. “Grace died in 2002. She was ninety-five. Nearly a century, thinking her father abandoned her.”

He turned to you, and you could see he was losing the battle against his grief. “That’s why. I…I’m not an overly religious man, but I believe in hell now, so there has to be a heaven. I know very well which one I’m destined for. _That’s_ why I stole the spell book. Not for my own selfish purposes, but so that I can maybe—just maybe see Grace, one last time.”

He grabbed your shoulders, gently but firmly, his eyes wild with emotion.

“I need to tell her I’m sorry. That I didn’t want to abandon her. I need to tell her I never forgot about her, I never stopped loving her. All these years, it’s the only thing that’s kept me going—the thought that maybe I can reverse the curse and save my soul.”

His eyes squeezed shut and he clenched his teeth. Silent tears ran down his face, and you couldn’t hold yourself back any longer. You pulled him into your arms, and he clutched at you like a drowning man…which, you supposed, he was.

You held him for a long time while he cried, and you had the feeling that years of grief were being unloaded. Your lips grazed his temple and you rubbed up and down his back, murmuring soothingly to him. Finally, he began to quiet.

“I-I’m sorry, Y/N, I…I’ve never taken anyone up here, not even Mrs. Conrad. I…”

“It’s okay, Jefferson, you’ve got nothing to apologize for,” you said, caressing his face. Your own was shining with tears as well. “I’m so sorry this happened to you, and I’m sorry you’ve had to carry that burden by yourself. Thank you for trusting me.”

You took his hands in yours. “I promise you, we’ll figure it out. Together. We’ll find a way to reverse the curse, and you’ll see Grace again. You’re not alone, Jefferson.”

He hiccupped and cupped your face. “I love you so much. I don’t know what I’ve done to deserve you, but I…thank you, Y/N. Thank you for listening, and thank you for…for helping.”

He smiled and took your hand. As he closed the door you turned, taking one last look at the child’s room—the symbol of a father’s love and undying devotion.

***

You awoke, cold. Drawing the blankets tighter your naked body, you rolled over. The fire in the hearth had gone out, that was one reason for the chill, but the other reason was your bedmate.

Jefferson lay next to you, as still and silent as the grave. A wave of fear washed over you before you remembered his words from this morning, right before you both fell asleep.

“Don’t be afraid, darling, if I don’t wake when you do.”

“What do you mean?”

His brow furrowed, and he looked at you sadly. “When the dawn comes, my strength is gone. Once I’m asleep I won’t wake, not for anything. I’ll look—well, it’ll be startling, but I’ll look quite dead. I just don’t want you to wake up and be afraid.”

And dead was indeed how he looked. His hands were folded loosely across his chest, his bloodless lips closed, long sooty eyelashes standing out against the pallor of his skin. You placed your hand on his chest where his heart should beat, and his skin was cold to the touch. You smiled sadly, and kissed his cold lips.

“Sleep well, love. I’ll see you tonight.”

You glanced at your phone as you got out of bed. Almost noon. It was still the weekend, but you had a number of things to get done, namely going back to your place to get fresh clothes—you couldn’t live in the same pair of scrubs day after day.

As you pulled them on yet again, you flushed, remembering what had happened that morning after you and Jefferson left Grace’s room. What started out as soft kisses quickly heated, leading to clothes heaped on the floor as you explored each other’s bodies. Legs and arms tangled together, writhing and moaning as you both rolled from one orgasm to the next—there seemed to be no end to Jefferson’s stamina.

Finally, the sun had brought an end to your nocturnal frolicking, and you drifted off to sleep in Jefferson’s arms. Despite the intensity of last night’s activities, though, you felt refreshed. You felt ready to conquer the day, or more accurately—to do what you needed to do so you could get back to him.

***

Jefferson lay sprawled on the bed, paging through the _Cartea Morților_ while Y/N showered for work. He was already dressed. They were headed to the morgue together that night, where she would work while he used her computer. Another reason that he hadn’t mentioned though, was protection—Regina had already attacked her there once, and there was no way he was going to let her walk in there alone again.

He flipped a page and smiled, momentarily distracted by the sound of her humming in the shower.

The spell book was quite fascinating, Jefferson had to admit. For the most part, the text was in Romanian, but the spells themselves were in some sort of ancient rune, and that was precisely what Jefferson was having a hard time deciphering. For hours he’d stared at them, trying to make sense of the patterns, but it was to no avail.

There were other useful bits, however. He’d learned a great deal about vampirism and his own natural inclinations, but the part that interested him the most was about bonding with a mate. Jefferson looked at the closed bathroom door. Y/N was still in there, now was the perfect time to go ask Mrs. Conrad.

It had been a wonderful weekend, one of the best he could remember. Y/N had run some errands that first day, retrieving her bike and coat from the morgue and checking in with Dr. Whale. Nothing was amiss.

Then she visited her apartment, gathering some clothing and personal items in an overnight bag, deciding to finally break down and use her car. The weather man had been forecasting snow, and it could start any day now.

She was back by the time he awoke, and the weekend had sped by.

He’d shown her the _Cartea Morților,_ and she had a number of marvelous suggestions about how to deal with the runes. She pulled up a number of articles and databases on her phone, and she said they could use the computer at the morgue to look up more information on Monday night.

Jefferson had a phone, but he only used it for emergencies, mostly to call Mrs. Conrad when he got in a bind—thankfully, that hadn’t happened too often. Y/N showed him how to use the internet on it, and how they could video call when she was away.

The rest of the weekend had sped by in utter bliss, long sessions in the bedroom followed by long walks through the woods and through town. They even stopped by Granny’s Diner and had a delightful drink called a pumpkin spice latte.

He had played some records on the old phonograph in the library, and he taught her to dance. Or rather, he tried to. It was an activity she was positively abysmal at, and they’d both collapsed in a giggling heap by the time it was over.

Occasionally, they just sat in the garden, talking. Jefferson lay with his head in her lap, eyes closed in contentment as she ran her fingers through his hair. She told him about her life and her family, growing up in Boston.

She was a lonely soul, just like him. She hadn’t been blessed with the ability to make friends easily, and her utter fascination with science, namely the forensic arts, isolated her. As she put it, not many people wanted to be friends with someone who cut up dead bodies for a living. She had simply laughed when he asked about her love life.

Despite that, she was warm and friendly with him, answering all his questions without hesitation. And he only had about a million—he wanted to know everything about her. He learned about her hobbies and her passions, all the while falling even harder for her.

Yes, Jefferson loved her with all his heart. He wanted to keep her safe, and he thought he might have found a solution. But first, he needed answers.

He found the old housekeeper in the garden. She greeted him, and her eyes fell to the open book in his hands.

“Have you found something, then?”

“Not precisely, no,” he said, fidgeting. “I…um I wanted to ask what you know about vampire mates…specifically the bonding ritual.”

A knowing smile crept over the woman’s face. “I figured this would come up sooner or later, I’m impressed you found it yourself. I thought I’d have to sit you down and explain it to you.”

“What do you mean?”

She sighed, and took a seat on the edge of the rocky bed. “It was obvious to me you had imprinted on the girl, boding with her as a mate would only come naturally to you.”

All the strength left him, and he sat down heavily. “Imprinted?”

“You never wondered why you both fell head over heels for each other? Why it came on so sudden and strong? I know you’ve been out of practice Jefferson, but let me tell you that love like that is far from normal.”

“So…the way we feel about each other…it’s only because I’m…I’m…” Jefferson felt sick. The only good thing left in his life, and it was corrupted by his darkness.

“Get ahold of yourself, boy. That’s not what I said,” she snapped. Rarely had she ever used that tone with him. “You seem hellbent on maintaining the delusion that you’re and evil creature, but that’s not true.”

“A satanic ritual—”

“Was used, yes. But the world is not black and white, and neither is good and evil. Vampires can be evil, this is true, but there can be good in them as well. You’ve proven that.”

Jefferson looked down at his hands, his jaw working in agitation. Mrs. Conrad took his hand in both of hers, forcing him to look at her.

“When two souls are meant to be together, they imprint on each other. A way of bonding with each other for life.”

Jefferson opened his mouth, but she cut him off.

“It’s not acknowledged in the mind, Jefferson, but in the heart. Most people never even realize it’s happened. The fairytales like to call it true love.”

His lips twitched up in a smile. True love. Yes, that was one word for it.

“But what does that have to do with bonding with a mate?”

She nodded. “Vampires are a bit more animalistic in nature, and they’re driven to take it a step further. Bonding with a mate is a means of protection. A bonded pair can sense the other’s feelings. They know when their mate is hurt or in trouble, and they always know where they are.”

“But Y/N’s not a vampire.”

“She doesn’t have to be.”

Jefferson was on his feet. He felt excited…anxious…and a little afraid.

“The…the ritual, is it satanic? Is it—”

Mrs. Conrad shook her head. “No. There’s no witchcraft or potions, incantations or other nonsense. Just two people giving all of themselves to each other. Think of it as the wildest sex you’ll ever have in your life,” she said with a cheeky grin.

Jefferson blushed a deep scarlet, hearing her talk like that. “Y-Yes, the book mentioned…ahem. Well…” he scrubbed his hand through his hair in agitation. “Will my blood hurt her? Will it—”

“You know the answer to that already. I was honestly surprised that you didn’t use it to heal her when you brought her here the other night.”

He made a face. “That’s disgusting. I wasn’t about to allow the evil in my veins corrupt her—”

“Do not make me knock you up the side of the head, Jefferson,” Mrs. Conrad warned. “You’re not evil, and you might be surprised at how…eager Y/N is to the whole idea. Remember, it takes two to imprint, and she’s probably been having rather sinful thoughts about you already. I mean…more sinful that what’s already taken place in your bedroom…and the library.”

Jefferson choked.

“Do you honestly think anything escapes my notice under this roof, boy?” she chuckled, standing. Then her expression softened, and she placed a hand on his arm. “It will be fine, Jefferson. Do what your heart tells you to do. You both deserve happiness.”

A crunch of the gravel behind them told him Y/N had come down. He turned, his face brightening at the mere sight of her. Soulmate indeed—she was a vision. Her heavy peacoat was buttoned up against the chill, her cheeks and nose rosy. Her hair fell loosely around her shoulders as her breath misted in the cold air.

“Ready?” she asked.

Jefferson stood, ignoring Mrs. Conrad’s chuckle. There was a lot that he and Y/N had to discuss, but first, there was work to be done. He walked down the path towards her, and offered her his arm.

“Ready, my dear.”


	7. Chapter 7

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Chapter Warning: **18+** Smut, Blood Drinking, Vampirism, Fluff
> 
> Series Warnings: 18+, Smut, Graphic Violence, Blood/Gore, Blood Drinking, Light details of an Autopsy/Medical Procedure, Angst, Fluff

Jefferson sat at the computer, researching and trying to ignore the horrible squelching of innards and the whir of the bone saw from across the room. Y/N may be a kind and gentle soul, but she had a cast iron stomach and nerves of steel to do what she did. Still, he couldn’t help but watch her despite the grisly scene laid out in front of her.

_Dear God, woman, you’re as terrifying as you are beautiful._

Jefferson smiled, utterly distracted by her.

He watched her long, delicate fingers as she handled the scalpel, her eyes narrowed in concentration. A lock of hair had fallen onto her forehead, but she seemed oblivious to that as well as everything else in the room. She was so smart and so incredibly beautiful, both inside and out.

More and more, Jefferson found himself daydreaming about a life with her. As a human, once again…able to walk in daylight, to hold her hand and stroll through the park like normal people, to lie in bed with her, the sun warm on their skin and both their hearts beating together as one as they made love for hours.

Jefferson hadn’t forgotten about Grace—oh, no. But if he were able to reverse the curse, he would still have a long life ahead of him before he was finally laid to rest. A long, _mortal_ life. One that he could spend, maybe, with her.

If she’d have him.

Because he surely wanted her, in every way possible…and he wanted to give himself to her as well. His mind was made up. He wanted to bond with her and take her as his mate, not just as a means of protection, but as an expression of his true love.

He closed his eyes, listening to the slow, steady cadence of her heartbeat. He inhaled, marveling at how good she smelled. How easy it was for him to separate the scent of her from everything else. After all, some of her blood already flowed through his veins, and Jefferson felt his fangs sharpen at the thought of more.

The sound of Y/N switching off the tape recorder startled him from his reverie, and he blinked in surprise.

_Now, where was I?_

Jefferson had to admit, he was completely lost. Technology wasn’t exactly his forte—okay, he was hopeless with it. She’d showed him how to use the internet, and the typing—well, it was just like a typewriter, but he was still a bit lost when it came to the mouse and all the clicking.

Instead, he propped his chin on his hand and watched as she scrubbed down after cleaning her workspace.

“Finished already, love?” he called.

She shrugged. “Seventy-five-year-old who smoked for over sixty years…you don’t exactly have to be Sherlock Holmes to figure that one out.”

“Good,” he said. “I mean…good that you’re done, not good about the…you know.”

He gestured vaguely in the direction of the corpse. Y/N laughed.

“It’s okay, Jefferson. I knew what you meant. How’s your search coming?”

He shuffled the papers and made a face. “Erm…well. I uh…I logged onto Google, but after that I admit I got a little lost…and distracted.”

“Distracted?”

Jefferson fixed her with a smoldering stare, and she bit her lip, suppressing a pleased grin. By god, if they weren’t here in her place of work he’d bend her right over that table and take her now, the little minx.

“Come,” he said, patting his leg. “Sit on my lap and show me how to double-click the mouse.”

“Jefferson!”

He laughed, grinning up at her. “I’m teasing!”

“I thought you didn’t know anything about computers.”

“I don’t…but I find modern sexual euphemisms fascinating.”

“You’re impossible,” she smirked.

They sat together at the computer while Y/N led the search for a key to the runes. Jefferson tried to pay attention, but he was very easily distracted. He paged through the book, drew little doodles on desk blotter, and alphabetized the reference books on the shelf behind them. He had just finished braiding her hair when she cried out.

“Jefferson! I think I found it!”

He huddled next to her as she pointed out an article on the screen.

“The symbols are an ancient Romanian secret language,” she said excitedly. “The symbols were used in recent centuries as embroidery patterns on clothing, but way, way before that they were used in secret cults.”

“Satanic?”

“No. Pagan Romanian cults, mostly representing the worship of the sun and the moon.”

“ _Copiii soarelui și lunii_ ,” Jefferson read in a hushed voice, looking at the screen.

“You speak Romanian?”

“I’ve had all the time in the world, my dear, I speak several languages.” He smiled and nodded at the screen. “It means, ‘Children of the Sun and the Moon.’ These cults were thought to be the forerunners to the Legend of Dracula and Van Helsing.”

Y/N turned and plucked the sheets off the printer that depicted several rune diagrams. “So, do you think you could translate it with these?”

Jefferson’s brow furrowed as he looked over the pages, cross-referencing several symbols. He laughed, seeing that she was absolutely right. For the first time, a cure was within his grasp.

“Yes, I believe it’s possible.” He beamed at her. “You’ve figured it out, Y/N, you…you’ve done what’s taken me over a century. You’re amazing, darling.”

Jefferson pulled her onto his lap, cupping her face with his hands. Light kisses against her lips, the tip of her nose, her forehead.

 _“Te iubesc, sângele inimii mele,”_ he whispered against her skin. He smiled at the deep blush that crept into her cheeks, and at the look of radiant adoration in her beautiful eyes.

“It means, I love you, blood of my heart.”

Her lips parted slightly, and she blushed. Jefferson rubbed his nose against hers and trailed his lips across her cheekbone and down her jaw, delighting in the way her breath hitched at his touch.

“Tell me more,” she murmured.

 _“Lumina vieții mele, vreau să vă dau totul_.”

Jefferson kissed the soft spot behind her ear. He drew her earlobe between his teeth, biting down gently. She gasped, and he whispered softly.

“Light of my life, I want to give you everything.”

His hands smoothed down her sides, gripping her hips and pulling her tighter to him. Lips grazed down her throat, pausing at her pulse point and feeling the rush of blood just beneath the surface.

“Vreau sa te fac al meu.”

He bit down lightly on the tender skin there, feeling her pulse quicken in response.

“I want to make you mine.”

Jefferson looked up at her and was surprised to see the carnal hunger in her eyes. She looked as though she would devour him on the spot. Bending down, she placed feather-light kisses on his cheeks, his nose, his brow.

“I want to be yours. Only yours,” she murmured.

The coil in his belly tightened as he felt her thighs squeeze his waist, and he gasped as she gripped his chestnut locks, tilting his head back so she could lavish attention to his throat. Jefferson’s hands snaked up her back and pulled her closer as they became lost in one another.

***

Two eyes peered through the low window that looked into the basement morgue, crimson lips sliding into a snarl. Watching in silent fury as the couple exchanged soft kisses and gentle caresses, less than ten feet from her.

Jefferson. Walking, talking, and very much alive, right in front of her. Kissing that lying little bitch of a coroner. Regina had been fooled again, and this time by a talentless human girl. Lied to and deceived, even after Regina had done her very best to put the fear of the devil in her.

Regina stood and dusted off her pantsuit. Well, her little protector wouldn’t be able to save her this time.

Regina had followed up on the coroner’s paperwork, trying to track down Jefferson’s body…only to find that both the paperwork _and_ the autopsy had been faked. The police were none the wiser—to them there was no way the body could be anything but dead and gone. Regina knew better, though.

Jefferson was proving to be as slippery as an eel. He had tricked her at every turn, and now he had her spell book. And not just any book—the _Cartea Morților,_ some of the darkest and deadliest spells were in that spell book. It was one of her favorites.

Apparently, he hadn’t learned his lesson with Grace. Perhaps it was time to take someone he loved from right in front of him. Make him watch as she suffered…use her as leverage to get what she needed from him.

And then, Regina would make Jefferson watch as she killed her.

As she faded back into the surrounding woods, Regina began to plot. She would need to get the girl away from him somehow—there was no way she would be able to get to her with Jefferson around. The man had no stomach for violence, but that didn’t mean he wouldn’t fight to the death to protect the woman he loved. The curse had made him stronger and faster than her…and a potentially lethal adversary.

Regina got in her car, as slow smile spreading across her face. She wasn’t worried. She would track them and find a way to get the girl alone.

Then she would make them both pay.

***

“Love? There’s something I want to ask you.”

You hummed, looking up at him. Sprawled across the couch with Jefferson, your head nestled against his chest, you floated in utter bliss, staring into the dancing flames in the fireplace. His long fingers grazed down the side of your face, his index finger sliding over your bottom lip.

He seemed lost in thought, and a little apprehensive.

“What is it, Jefferson? What’s wrong?”

He smiled. “Nothing’s wrong, I just…I’ve been doing some thinking, and reading…”

“About what?”

“A way to keep you safe…a way for us to look out for each other.”

You must have looked confused, because he carefully sat you up, pulling the _Cartea Morților_ onto both your laps. He paged through the book until he found what he was looking for.

A wild heat erupted in your core the same moment you flushed in embarrassment. The page was in Romanian, of course, but the illustrations left little to the imagination. They looked like they belonged in _The Joy of Sex_ …if Bram Stoker had written it. It appeared to be detailed instructions for a vampire mating ritual.

Jefferson caught your look, and he chuckled nervously. “Yes, ah…it’s…I know it’s a bit, erm…descriptive, but it’s…”

He cleared his throat, blinking rapidly. “The mating ritual is not just sexual, it’s used to form a bonded pair. That is, between two vampires after they’ve imprinted on one another…or a vampire and a human.”

You had to admit, just the thought of bonding with Jefferson in that way warmed your heart…as well as somewhere further south. Still, you had questions.

“Will it…will it hurt? Am I going to turn into a—”

“No!” Jefferson grabbed both your hands, clutching them with urgency. “I would never, never do anything to hurt you or…or _taint_ you like that.”

He said it with such disgust that you immediately felt bad for even asking.

“Don’t,” he said as if he could read your thoughts. “You have questions, as you should. I…I only bring it up because it is a means of protection. After we’re bonded we’ll be able to sense when the other is in danger, feel each other’s emotions. A bonded pair will always find each other.”

“So it’s just for protection?”

“No. Not just that it’s…it’s something I want with you, very, very much.”

Your breath hitched in your chest, and your heart fluttered.

You would be lying if you said you hadn’t imagined a future with Jefferson. What he was offering, while slightly different, seemed more intimate and…lasting. You knew he loved you, but you had no idea he felt as strongly as you did. He was sitting there, watching you, waiting for your answer.

You nodded, and Jefferson broke into such a radiant and genuine smile that it melted your heart. He cradled your face, kissing you deeply. His nose rubbed against your cheek as he whispered into your ear.

“I love you, Y/N.” He smiled and pulled back, his blue eyes flicking back and forth between yours. “Do you want this, darling? Truly? I don’t want to make you—”

You silenced him with a kiss, and he moaned.

“I want to be yours, Jefferson. I want this.”

Jefferson drew you into his arms, nuzzling your hair. The fire was starting to die down as he helped you to your feet, holding your hand tightly as you ascended the stairs to his bedroom. He shut the door and stood there, fidgeting and staring at the floor.

Now that you were in his room, Jefferson seemed nervous. He was trembling, and he looked at you as if you were made of porcelain.

“Jefferson, what’s wrong?”

“I…I want to do this, I really do.” His lips trembled. “I just—I don’t want to hurt you.”

He looked at you, his eyes miserable. “And I could. _Hurt you_. I—you have no idea what it’s like. How much I constantly struggle to control myself with you. How long I’ve dreamed of this very moment with you. How much I want it, but I’m so afraid I’m not strong enough to stop myself.”

Jefferson looked at you, his eyes darkening with desire. He leaned in, kissing you gently as his fingers traced down your neck, stopping at the hollow of your throat. His palm flattened against your chest and he closed his eyes, feeling the steady rhythm of the organ beneath.

“I can hear your heart beating, did you know that? Always. Sometimes it beats softly in the background, a white noise I hardly notice.” He took a deep breath and his eyes fluttered open, feeling your heart start to pound beneath his hand.

“Other times, though, like this…it’s everywhere. It’s all around me. It’s _inside_ me, I can almost feel it. It’s so alive…so beautiful…so _you_. It’s almost more than I can stand.”

He was staring at you now, his eyes blown black with a carnal need.

“I can smell it…your blood. God, it smells so sweet, so intoxicating.” Jefferson licked his lips, barely suppressing a shudder. “Your heart is racing, it’s pounding in my head. I can hear the liquid rush calling to me, and I can smell how much you want it.”

Jefferson ghosted his lips over the pulse point in your throat, and you could feel the light drag of his fangs against your skin. Wetness pooled at your core, and he groaned. You knew he could smell that as well.

“God help me, I want it too. I want it, but once I have that first taste, I’m not sure I’ll be able to stop myself.”

Jefferson seemed to come back to himself, and laid back on the bed with a sigh. “It won’t be like before, it’s…it’s…I’ll try to be gentle, but you have to understand, I’ll be at the very limit of my control.”

He looked up at you, miserably tormented by his conflicting emotions. It was time to take matters into your own hands.

You unbuttoned your dress, letting it fall silently to the floor as you climbed onto the bed, facing him. Jefferson stared at you as you crawled over to him, your fingers slowly untying his scarf.

“It’s okay, Jefferson, I trust you. I know you won’t hurt me.”

His breath hitched as you unbuttoned his shirt and ran your hands down his sculpted chest. He felt cold, and you remembered he hadn’t fed yet today. Heat coiled in your belly at the thought.

Jefferson reached up with trembling hands and lightly traced the vein in your throat, all the way down your chest, pausing over your heart. His fingers slipped beneath the fabric of your bra, running softly over your breasts and making your nipples hard. His eyes flashed darkly, but he was exceedingly gentle as he pulled off your undergarments.

His pants and shirt soon joined them on the floor, and he sat back, staring at you as if seeing you for the first time. It seemed like the calm before the storm. He was painfully hard, and you were almost shaking in anticipation as you felt the wetness of your arousal leak down your leg.

“So beautiful,” he said as he took your face in his hands, “and all mine.”

He laid you back against the bed, his mouth never leaving yours. For a moment you were both so still, laying skin against skin, your heart pounding so hard you felt it shaking both your bodies. Jefferson’s breath shuddered against your lips.

 _“Te iubesc, dragă,”_ he murmured. “So much.”

“I love you too, Jefferson.”

His tongue licked against your bottom lip, requesting permission. Jefferson groaned loudly as he entered your mouth, and he slid on top of your body possessively. He left wet, open-mouthed kisses down your front, whispering against your skin.

“I’m going to make you mine, darling, but first…first I’m going to make you scream with pleasure.”

His eyes found yours as his fingers found your core. He started slowly, gently, rubbing lightly over your clit as he suckled your breast. You sighed in contentment, a sight that turned into a gasp as he slipped a finger inside you and bit down on your nipple.

You cried out as his sinful tongue explored your body. He slipped a second and a third finger inside, pumping hard and rubbing your sensitive spot into a frenzy. Jefferson bit your ear, fisting your hair and holding you tightly against his body.

“Come for me, my petal. I want to hear you.”

His voice was a low growl, intensively possessive. It might have been that alone that sent you over the edge, but the moment he rubbed hard against your clit you came with a scream.

Jefferson didn’t even let you come down. Flipping you over, he grabbed your hips, drawing you up and back as he pushed in with a single hard thrust. You groaned obscenely. His hands gripped you tighter and he pushed against you, hard and quick, your name a breathless moan on his lips.

It was rough. It was animalistic and possessive. You could barely breathe with the sheer masculinity he exuded.

You came again, clenching down on him. His thrusts became erratic, and he slammed into you as he came with a choked shout. Jefferson’s hand reached up and grabbed your throat lightly, pulling you back into his chest. He panted into your shoulder, and you could still feel him twitching inside you.

Your head was buzzing with aftershock. Still, Jefferson was far from done with you. He smiled as he gently laid you down, his eyes wide and bright with adoration. He balanced his weight on his arms, his taught stomach against yours and his still-hard cock between your legs. Once again, you marveled at the sheer beauty of him.

A kiss as he entered you again, gentler this time but no less insistently. Slower thrusts this time…deeper. Taking his time now that all the frantic, needy energy had been expended from you both.

Your legs wrapped around his hips as his eyes bored into yours, and you found yourself mesmerized by their intensity. Then his lips were on yours again, the heat building slowly.

Jefferson cradled your head, lifting you up and tilting your head back slightly. His lips grazed your pulse point and you felt his breath, warm against your skin.

“I love you, Y/N.”

Two sharp pinches at your throat, and your eyes flew open as you gasped at the pain. Blood gushed up from the wound. Jefferson’s mouth pressed to your jugular as his fangs sank in deeper, and the pain disappeared, gone as suddenly as it came.

A great wave of euphoria washed over you, and you clutched at his shoulders. Jefferson drank, great long pulls as he continued to thrust into you. He moaned, his throat working at your vein. You felt your heart slow, each beat almost a painful thud against your chest. Jefferson moaned again in response, his thrusts growing harder and more desperate as he drank.

His skin was liquid fire against yours, and you swore you were both glowing. The room dimmed. You couldn’t breathe, the intensity of your previous orgasms washing into the now and making your head spin. Your body tensed and your back arched as your nails raked his back. Jefferson’s hips snapped against you once more and you came again, your vision fading to black as he released inside you. 

You drifted, floating away on a cloud of ecstasy. Dimly, you were aware of Jefferson’s fangs withdrawing. His tongue slid over the wound on your throat, and he cradled you against his chest.

“Y/N? Darling, open your eyes…I need you to tell me you’re okay.”

His voice was hoarse and thick with emotion. It didn’t worry you though, nothing did. You couldn’t feel anything except for him—your world began and ended in his arms.

Your hand fell limply onto the sheets.

Worried hands at your face, and your eyes sleepily blinked open. You felt so exhausted, so…thoroughly sated. Lazy with afterglow. You smiled up at Jefferson, reaching up to caress his face.

“…so pretty…so…you’re so…beautiful…”

Blue eyes looking concerned now, lifting your head.

“Y/N, listen to me. You have to drink now, you’re too weak.”

Jefferson bit down on his wrist. Blood immediately welled from the wound, running down his forearm and dripping onto the sheets. Your eyes had fluttered shut, and he held his injured arm to your lips.

“Please, love…you have to take some from me now…I know it’s…”

His words faded to a gasp as your lips found the wound at his wrist, and you began to drink.

It was far from disgusting. It was a bit salty with a coppery hint, but it was rich and warm and somehow, it tasted like _him_. Jefferson shuddered and gasped, pulling you close and cradling your head against his chest as he fed you.

The haziness retreated, replaced by a startling clarity. Your eyes fluttered open. The colors of the room were brighter, your hearing sharper. You could sense Jefferson’s every feeling, every movement, your hypersensitivity completely in tune with his body.

All too soon he gently pulled his wrist away, licking the wound closed. You laid back, sighing deeply. Your body was thrumming with sudden energy. With life.

You rolled over, staring at him, feeling an immense and visceral pull. Jefferson looked at you, his eyes shining with devotion. You could feel his love, tempered with lingering concern.

Suddenly, you wanted him again. You _needed_ him.

You pressed him back against the bed, raising his arms above his head and pinning him down. You knew he could easily overpower him, but at that moment, something otherworldly was driving you to dominate him. To make him _yours_. 

Jefferson growled up at you, his eyes flashing with desire as your lips met his in a bruising kiss. Fingers tangled in his hair, pulling his head back as you bit his throat, sucking his skin between your teeth as he whimpered submissively.

You bit his lip and tasted his blood again, and it was all over after that. Jefferson groaned as you sank down on him, taking his hands and placing them on your hips. His head tilted back and he cried out as you rode him.

Neither of you lasted long this time, toppling over the edge together with a mutual shout. You collapsed against his heaving chest, your strength utterly spent. Jefferson curled his arms around you. Legs wrapped around his waist, you held him, neither of you wanting to let the other go.

Now it was time for sweet kisses and lingering touches, the heat of your passion burning low but still just as bright. You stared at each other with new eyes. Hands caressed gentle curves and taught muscle, each of you breathless with love for the other.

“I don’t think I’ll ever get sick of kissing you,” you said, sighing dreamily as his lips found yours yet again.

Jefferson laughed, a light and carefree sound. “Then I’ll make it my life’s mission to make sure you get your fill, from sun up to sun down.”

You looked at him, realizing what he had just said.

“I mean it, Y/N. If…if we’re able to pull this off, to reverse the curse and make me human again, I’d like to court you…properly.”

You giggled. “I don’t think they call it courting anymore, Jefferson.”

“Well, _dating_ then,” he said, rolling his eyes. “Whatever you call it, I’d like the chance to live a mortal life with you, if you’ll have me.”

After everything you’d just done, everything you’d been through together, he was still unsure.

“You already have me Jefferson,” you said, kissing his cheek. “I’m yours, in this life and the next. I’m never leaving you.”

Jefferson exhaled sharply, and he blinked. Tears spilled over as he drew you into his chest in a bone-crushing hug and peppered kisses all over your face and neck until you were giggling again.

Soon the first hints of rose began to peek over the horizon as dawn approached. Jefferson looked up at you apologetically.

“It’s okay, Jefferson. I’m exhausted too. Let’s just go to sleep, we’ll need our strength for tomorrow.”

“Yes. Tomorrow.”

Despite the fatigue, his eyes twinkled in anticipation. Tomorrow you would begin to translate the runes and gather the materials needed for the potion. Tomorrow you would take the first steps towards turning him human once more.

You curled into Jefferson as his arm wrapped protectively around you, and you watched as his eyes grew heavy…long, dark lashes resting against his cheekbones. His breathing slowed, and as the first glimpse of the sun peeked over the horizon, he let out a small sigh. His chest didn’t rise again.

You knew what to expect with the dawn, but it didn’t make it any easier to watch. You held Jefferson tightly as the last bit of warmth left his body.

_Soon, love. Soon, you won’t have to live like this anymore._


	8. Chapter 8

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Chapter Warning: Violence, Angst, Blood Drinking, Fluff
> 
> Series Warnings: 18+, Smut, Graphic Violence, Blood/Gore, Blood Drinking, Light details of an Autopsy/Medical Procedure, Angst, Fluff

The moon was high and bright, streaming in through the tall window up the upstairs study. You were huddled with Jefferson behind the desk, his hand absently rubbing up and down your arm as you wrote down his translation of the runes.

It had taken you almost four days to translate the text, and you were nearly finished with the inscription for the potion. It was going to be labor-intensive to say the least. Jefferson consulted with Mrs. Conrad, and she volunteered to help you brew it.

A good many of the ingredients were already on hand in the house or out in Mrs. Conrad’s garden. Still, others were going to prove difficult to procure. Namely, one ingredient you needed from Regina herself.

“’A lock of hair from the one who cursed you,’” Jefferson read. “Good gracious, how are we going to manage that?”

After much thought and deliberation, you both had decided to break into her penthouse apartment in North Boston. Jefferson was intimately familiar with it, having done that exact thing only two weeks ago when he’d stolen the spell book in the first place. You had hoped to find a hairbrush or something that would provide the missing ingredient.

Jefferson didn’t want you to come. He insisted it was too dangerous, and he refused to hear any talk otherwise.

“No,” he said, stubbornly crossing his arms. “Absolutely not, Y/N. Regina nearly killed you once…I can’t let you be placed in danger again.”

You scoffed. “And remind me again how _you_ ended up on my autopsy table? I won’t let you get hurt either. You said you’d let me help—”

“I did.”

“—and I’m not going to just sit back and let you walk in there alone, Jefferson! I’m coming, and that’s final.”

“Y/N.” His face was tortured. “I can’t lose you.”

You took his hand in both of yours. “You won’t. You’ll have my back, and I’ll have yours. We’re stronger together, love. You know how I feel, and you know I can’t let you go.”

His face softened. You were right, of course. After the bond, Jefferson could feel each and every emotion you experienced, just as you were now feeling his anxiety and fear. But over that, you felt his overwhelming love and admiration for you that melted your heart.

“All right, darling,” he said, caressing your cheek. “All right. But you must promise me that you will listen to everything I say, no matter what. Regina is exceedingly sly, and there will be dangers there far beyond the witch herself.”

You hesitated, and he fixed you with a penetrating stare from under those sinfully long lashes. Finally, you relented.

“Okay. I promise.”

Jefferson pulled you close and this time, you didn’t need the bond to feel his anxiety as he clutched you tightly, almost as if he were afraid you would fade to dust in his arms.

***

Just like the old days, Jefferson thought bitterly.

In the many pockets of his coat was his old lockpick kit, along with various talismans and trinkets to help ward off the traps and spells he was sure still protected the apartment. He stood with Y/N, hand in hand on the surprisingly busy Boston street corner, looking up at Regina’s apartment. Once again, about to break into the proverbial lion’s den.

Jefferson fingered the gun in his side pocket. A last minute parting gift from Mrs. Conrad, and something he didn’t have the last time. He hoped their endeavor that night would be successful, but he was prepared to fight to the death in order to ensure the safety of the woman he loved, even if it meant giving his own life.

He half-wished she hadn’t come, but at the same time, her presence was a soothing balm to his nerves. Her heartbeat was a bit elevated, but it was steady and calm. He could almost feel it thudding inside his own body, centering him. Grounding him.

Jefferson looked down at her, struck again at her strength and beauty. The bonding ritual had truly been an experience like none other—he felt as if he were looking at the world through new eyes. He felt complete. Happy. Something he hadn’t thought attainable in his current form.

Y/N caught him staring at her with what he was sure was a besotted look on his face, and she smiled tenderly up at him. A quick kiss and he sighed, checking his pocket watch. Dawn was only a couple hours away, and they were cutting it close.

Time to get moving.

Breaking into Regina’s apartment proved just as easy as it had been the first time. True to her word, Y/N followed his every instruction down to the letter. She raised an eyebrow, though, as he stepped across the threshold.

“Don’t vampires need to be invited into a home?”

Jefferson rolled his eyes. “That’s absurd. Honestly, Y/N, we’ve been together for almost two weeks…it’s time to let go of those horrid theatrical misconceptions.”

They split up, searching the rooms carefully for something that would provide the lock of hair they needed. They had waited through the night, watching the apartment until they were sure it was empty—Regina had left nearly an hour ago.

Still, there was no time to waste. Y/N searched the bathrooms, while Jefferson searched her “workshop,” gathering specialty ingredients for the potion Mrs. Conrad hadn’t been able to locate.

“Got it!” Y/N called from the bathroom.

“Wonderful!” He said as he carefully placed the last two bottles in the rucksack he held. “I’ve nearly gotten everything we came for, did you—”

Jefferson cut off suddenly. An icy prickle of fear had crept up his spine, choking the breath from his lungs.

_She’s in danger._

He didn’t know how he knew. He just did.

Slowly, Jefferson turned, and his blood ran cold.

Regina was standing in the entryway, her hand fisted tightly in Y/N’s hair as she pulled her head back. A long, thin knife glittered under her chin. Jefferson cried out, taking a step towards them.

“No—”

“Not one step further, Jefferson, or I’ll open her throat,” Regina purred.

As if to prove her point, she flicked the tip of the blade along the skin, and a thin trickle of blood ran down Y/N’s neck.

Jefferson felt a black rage consume him. He pulled the gun from his pocket without thinking, his jaw clenching in fury as he aimed it at her.

“Do not touch her again, Regina.”

“Or what? You’ll kill me?” The witch laughed. “You don’t have it in you.”

Jefferson’s eyes flicked to Y/N. She was seething with anger, but it nearly killed him to see the terror lurking behind it. Her heart was hammering in his ears, reminding him of her fragile mortality.

“The bag. Drop it,” Regina ordered.

Jefferson complied, setting it on the ground with a snarl.

“Now the book. I know you’re not foolish enough to bring it here, so you’re going to take me to it. Then, and only then, will you get your precious little Y/N back.”

It was a lie. Regina would make him watch while she tortured her, only killing them both after they begged for mercy. And maybe not even then.

Jefferson’s mind spun. He had to get Y/N away from Regina, but how? He felt the weight of the gun in his hand, but there was no way he could use it without putting Y/N in more danger. He’d never fired a gun before, and he was terrified he might hit her.

“Drop the gun, Jefferson, there’s no way out of this,” Regina laughed. “You know, you saved me a lot of trouble. I’ve been following you both for days, and now here you are, served up to me on a silver platter.”

“Let’s go, both of you.” Her expression darkened as he continued to hesitate. “The book—take me to it, Jefferson, or the girl dies.”

“All right, all right!” He carefully set the gun on the floor, stepping towards the large picture window instead of the door. “It’s at my house. We brought a car, I can take you to it. Just let her go—take me instead.”

Y/N’s eyes went wide, but Jefferson’s mouth tightened in a thin line as he continued to back up.

_Trust me, darling._

“No. She comes…as insurance.”

Jefferson had stopped moving, but Regina kept walking forward, not paying attention to how close he was. He let his shoulders fall in defeat, his head bowing slightly.

One more step.

“Let’s go—”

Jefferson waited until she spoke again. Quick as a viper, he lashed out at Y/N’s throat, slipping his hand beneath the blade and pulling it away. He twisted, yanking it from Regina’s startled hand.

Blood immediately gushed from the wound on his palm, but Jefferson was oblivious to it. He shoved Y/N back, placing his body between Regina and her.

The witch screeched and threw herself at him. She was right—Jefferson was not a fighter by nature, and he was honestly stunned his ruse had worked. Still, he was enraged, his anger fueled by the instinctual need to protect his mate.

Y/N screamed as he pushed Regina back towards the window. Regina’s hands clawed at his face, but he grabbed her by the arms and threw her back against it, the glass cracking ominously. Another shove and it broke completely, nearly taking them both with it.

Jefferson felt hands grab the back of his jacket, pulling him away from the open window as Regina fell. A muffled thud, and they both stared slack-jawed at her motionless body, splayed out six stories below on the grassy lawn of the courtyard.

“Oh my god, is…is she…”

Jefferson grimaced. “Yes, I believe she is.”

He stood up, and then stumbled back as Y/N launched herself into his arms. She clutched at him, burrowing her face tightly against his neck, her relief and love so overwhelming he chuckled despite the terror of the previous few minutes.

“Jefferson, you’re a complete idiot, and I love you.”

Jefferson healed both their wounds, lingering over her throat and breathing her in. It scared him, how close he had come to losing her, but it was over now.

“I love you too. Forever and always, my darling girl.”

Lips met and hands grasped, but their moment was interrupted by shouts from the courtyard.

“We’ve got to go, the cops are going to be here soon,” she said, checking her watch. “And we’re going to have to hurry if we’re going to beat the dawn back, we’ve taken too long.”

She looked at him worriedly, but he shook his head.

“I’ll be fine.”

***

One hour outside of Boston, and you began to seriously doubt Jefferson.

The faster you drove, the slower the car seemed to go—or rather, the faster the sun seemed to come up. Jefferson was slumped against the center console, clutching his jacket around his shoulders and shivering violently. He looked terrible. Covered in a light sheen of sweat, dark circles stood out under his eyes.

“I thought you said the sunlight just stung a little,” you said, looking down at him worriedly.

A dry, rasping cough that might have been a laugh.

“Yes, well, I might have under-exaggerated the effects a bit.” His eyes rolled up to look at you. “Please, Y/N, I know it looks bad, but I’ll be okay. It’s happened before, I just need to get home.”

“Why don’t we stop somewhere so you can rest? We can shut the drapes—”

He shook his head. “The potion has to be brewed at the height of a full moon. That’s tonight. We have to get these ingredients back to Mrs. Conrad as soon as possible.”

“Then at least feed from me, just to get your—”

“No.”

“You’re being stubborn.”

“Not while you’re driving, Y/N, you need your strength. Please, don’t worry about me.”

Tears pricked your eyes. “How can you say that? You’re everything to me, Jefferson, I always worry about you.”

Jefferson smiled weakly, tears in his own eyes at your sentiment.

Finally, he agreed to ride in the trunk under a blanket. He muttered feebly as you helped him in, something about the indignity of it all. You could honestly give two shits about his dignity right then, you couldn’t bear to let him suffer like that a second longer. You hated to do that to him, but at least now the sun would be off him and he could ride in complete darkness.

After what seemed like several lifetimes, you arrived back at the mansion. The sun was fully up now, shining down on Mrs. Conrad as she trotted out to greet the car. You’d called her during your drive, letting her know the situation.

“Jesus, Mary, and Joseph, you great fool,” she said as she peered in the trunk.

Jefferson was lying still and silent, dark veins standing out against his pallid skin. You cried out, hauling him to a sitting position as his head rolled limply against your shoulder. Jefferson’s eyelids fluttered open. They closed immediately as he winced against the bright sun, and he groaned.

“Best get him inside the house, girl and let him feed. He’ll be right as rain in a few, but the poor boy’s allowed himself to be depleted too far,” Mrs. Conrad said.

She helped you lift him from the trunk, grunting with effort. Jefferson’s knees buckled as soon as he tried to take a step, and he clutched at you for support.

“Steady, now, let us help you,” the old housekeeper said sternly.

Between the two of you, you managed to half-drag, half-carry Jefferson into the house.

“Almost there, love, just a little further,” you soothed. You’d heard Mrs. Conrad’s reassurances, but it still terrified you to see him this weak. 

Once inside, Mrs. Conrad drew the drapes in the kitchen as you let Jefferson slide down against the wall. He moaned your name, his half-lidded eyes searching for yours.

“Jefferson, sweetheart, you have to feed now. Please.”

You cradled his head, offering him your wrist. He weakly turned his head away. Your jaw clenched in anger and fear.

“You stubborn ass! What makes this any different than the other night? Because you _need_ it now? I swear to god, Jefferson, if you don’t feed right now I’ll slit my wrist myself and have Mrs. Conrad hold your mouth open until you drink—I’m not going to lose you!”

Jefferson stared at you, his eyes glittering dully. You didn’t think he even had the strength to speak. Firmly, you pushed your wrist at him, and he closed his eyes in resignation.

Two pinches and a burning pain, followed by the now familiar feel of euphoria as your mate fed. You cradled his head against your chest, humming to him softly as you ran your fingers through his hair. You knew he hated this, but this feeling with him, sustaining him with your own life…it was more intimate than you could ever have imagined.

You loved Jefferson with all your heart, far beyond the simple bond you shared as mates.

You were starting to get dizzy. Jefferson felt it and released you, both of you panting hard. Worriedly, you searched his eyes.

“Are you okay?”

Jefferson huffed, looking up at you in adoration. “I am, thanks to you. You didn’t—” he caught himself, pursing his lips before smiling up at you weakly. “I love you, Y/N.”

“I love you too, Jefferson.”

“All right, that’s enough, you two,” Mrs. Conrad said, bustling back into the kitchen and looking not the least bit upset by the recent events…although you thought you caught a glimpse of what looked suspiciously like relief in her eyes. Hands on her hips, she brandished a long wooden spoon at you.

“Up to bed, you’re both worn to the bone. I’ll sort through this lot while you sleep, and we can start brewing the potion tonight.”

Your legs were a little unsteady as you stood, as were Jefferson’s. Leaning against each other for support, you both made your way slowly up to his bedroom, where you collapsed gratefully into his bed.

You helped him undress, your mind wandering indecently as you once again took in his naked form, the old familiar heat building low as you remembered his feral protectiveness earlier that night. Jefferson caught your mood and looked at you with a dark desire, but as he pulled you in for a kiss you could feel him trembling with weakness. Even a full feeding hadn’t been enough—he needed rest.

“Sleep, love,” you said, rubbing your nose against his.

Jefferson hummed. “Not without you.”

He wrapped his arms around your waist, holding you close and resting his head lightly against your chest so he could both feel and hear your heart beating. He nuzzled into you, and you faintly heard him murmuring something to you as sleep claimed you both.

***

It was still light out when you awoke, frigid with cold. Jefferson was still nestled against your breast, but all the life had gone out of him. You sighed sadly and tucked him back into bed as you extricated yourself from his embrace.

Wandering downstairs, you found that Mrs. Conrad had also gone to bed after sorting the ingredients. Eagerly, you looked over her handiwork. You frowned. One appeared to be missing.

Then you saw the note from Mrs. Conrad, mentioning the missing ingredient.

Formaldehyde.

_I can’t believe I overlooked that, we have gallons of the stuff in the morgue._

You looked at the clock. Nearly two hours until dusk, plenty of time to get there and back. You wanted everything to be ready to go, tonight was your only window of opportunity to brew the potion until next month.

Briefly, you considered waking Mrs. Conrad to tell her where you were going. Ultimately you decided against it, though. Regina was dead—what harm was there?

You tugged on your coat after writing a quick note to Jefferson, walking out of the heavy oak doors into the bright morning sun. There was frost on the ground and your breath hung heavy in the air, turning everything into a crystalline dreamscape.

A short walk found you at the morgue. It was after hours on a Saturday, and the building was utterly deserted. You quickly located the formaldehyde and stuffed a small jar in your purse, taking care to insulate the glass properly.

As you were walking out, your stomach began to rumble. You hadn’t had a thing to eat in almost twenty-four hours, and you were starving. As you passed Shirly’s desk, you spied a large bowl of fruit sitting there that you hadn’t noticed before. A large, red apple was sitting on top, and your mouth watered.

Surely the receptionist wouldn’t begrudge you one apple.

You snatched it up, mentally reminding yourself to bring her some of those swiss chocolates you knew she liked in return. As you bit into the apple, you perused through the memos you’d picked up from your mailbox.

The apple tasted funny.

You spat out the last bite, but you’d already swallowed the first one. Your head was spinning, and there didn’t seem like there was enough air in the room. You coughed, clutching at your throat. The blood pounded in your ears, and your vision went dark, your purse sliding off your shoulder onto the floor a second before you did.

***

The apple rolled out of the girl’s outstretched hand, coming to rest against Regina’s heeled foot. Her hair was wild, twigs and leaves peeking out of it like a bird’s nest, smudges of dirt on her face and pantsuit.

Plucking the phone from the girl’s back pocket, Regina grabbed her lifeless hand and used her fingerprint to unlock it. Her nose wrinkled into a snarl as she saw the screen lock image—a picture of the girl and Jefferson, arms around each other and smiling at the camera. Two idiots in love.

Regina laughed wickedly as she dialed Jefferson’s number.


	9. Chapter 9

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Chapter Warning: Violence, Murder, Blood, Angst, Fluff
> 
> Series Warnings: 18+, Smut, Graphic Violence, Blood/Gore, Blood Drinking, Light details of an Autopsy/Medical Procedure, Angst, Fluff

Something was wrong.

Jefferson couldn’t quite put his finger on it. He had woken to the same feeling of sinking dread that he’d felt in Regina’s apartment—but no, that was impossible—Regina was dead. He’d seen her body with his own eyes.

He wandered through the sprawling mansion, calling Y/N’s name. She hadn’t been there when he woke, and he couldn’t seem to find her anywhere. She wasn’t answering her phone either.

_She’s in trouble. She’s in trouble, but I don’t know why…or what._

Mrs. Conrad was still asleep, but Jefferson didn’t want to wake her yet. Not until he was sure. It wasn’t that he doubted himself, it was just that…sometimes he didn’t think clearly, especially when it came to Y/N.

He was in the kitchen now. The ingredients were neatly laid out on the counter, along with a note. Picking it up, his eyebrows raised as he realized it was from Y/N.

_Jefferson,_

_I’ve gone to the morgue, we forgot one of the ingredients. I’ll be back soon, probably before you’re even awake._

_I love you,_

_Y/N_

That should have made him feel better, but it didn’t. It made him feel worse.

Much worse.

He had to find her. He had to go to her. Something was happening, Jefferson wasn’t sure what, but he felt like he was losing his mind.

He was just tugging on his coat when he heard a ringing sound coming from his pocket.

“What on earth…oh. My phone.”

He pulled it out, and relief immediately flooded him when he saw who was calling. Y/N.

“Oh, thank god.”

Jefferson saw it was one of those “video chats” she had told him about. He swiped up like he’d been shown, sighing deeply. The screen blinked open, showing a long hallway.

“Darling, where are you? You had me worried sick.”

“Hello, Jefferson.”

The relieved smile faded from his face, and his blood ran cold.

_No. No it couldn’t be._

The screen shifted, and Regina’s face came into view, grinning like a Cheshire Cat.

“Where’s Y/N?” he growled, at once demanding and dreading the answer.

“Oh, she’s right here…but I’ve got to be honest with you, she’s looked better.”

The screen flipped again, and Jefferson went rigid.

Y/N was sprawled on the floor, one arm outstretched. Her eyes were closed, and she was as pale as the grave. She looked…she looked…

_NO! No, no, no, please god—no!_

“Calm yourself, Jefferson, she’s not dead…yet. It wouldn’t be very smart to get rid of my one piece of leverage on you, would it?”

“What did you do?” he grated.

It felt like his heart had been cut from his chest. Regina smirked triumphantly, tossing an apple up in the air and catching it. A single bite had been taken from it.

“The Curse of the Sleeping Death…as old as time itself, except I added a little twist. Your little poppet will sleep like the dead until she’s awakened by true love’s kiss. A kiss of life, if you will.”

“What do you want, Regina. I’ll do anything—”

“I know you will.” Her eyes narrowed. “I want it all. The book, the hat, the watch…and you.”

Seeing the look on his face, she laughed.

“You didn’t honestly expect I’d let you walk away after all that, did you? No. You bring me what I want, and I’ll let you revive your little princess here. She can go and live out her happy little life, I don’t care—but you? You’re mine. Do we have a deal?”

“Yes.”

Jefferson didn’t care. He was twice damned. He’d played the game, once again, and he’d lost. He would _not_ allow Y/N to pay the price for it, even if it meant an eternity in hell…after whatever horrors Regina had planned for him.

“Oh, and Jefferson?” Regina added sweetly. She’d shifted the camera so it pointed at Y/N’s body once more. “That little twist to the spell I mentioned? At midnight, the spell becomes permanent, so…tick tock.”

The call ended, and Jefferson stood there, staring at the blank screen. He couldn’t move. He couldn’t breathe. His entire world was crumbling around him—the little world he and Y/N had built for themselves.

Finally, he convinced his legs to work, and he walked woodenly to the study to retrieve the items. He shrugged on his coat.

The parlor clock chiming the hour woke him from his stupor.

_Eleven o’clock! For heaven’s sake, how is it so late? I-I must have overslept, I didn’t…_

Truthfully, he still felt weak from his ordeal the day before. He hadn’t fully recovered his strength, and now there would be no time to feed. He had to get to Y/N, as quickly as possible.

The walk to the morgue was interminably long. Snow had begun to fall, catching in his hair—the first few flakes of the season.

It seemed like only yesterday he and Y/N were strolling down that very path, hand in hand and mooning over each other like the new lovers they were. Jefferson’s heart ached for her, and for what might have been. Regina had her now. It was all his fault, and he would do anything to make her safe again.

“Regina!” he shouted as he tore through the front office.

Down the stairs and into the lab, he nearly ripped the door off its hinges. He skidded to a stop. Y/N’s body was laid out on the autopsy table, her hands folded peacefully across her chest as if in death.

Jefferson cried out and started towards her, but something sharp jabbed against his chest, stopping him. Regina stepped into view, once again holding a long wooden stake in place over his heart. His jaw clenched, and he jerked his chin over to where Y/N lay.

“Is this your idea of a joke?”

“It’s a bit poetic, don’t you think?”

For a moment, the two just stared at each other. Jefferson could feel a blind rage bubbling up inside him, a consuming anger he’d never felt before. Regina had won—again, and in that moment, all he could think about was killing her. Slowly, and painfully.

Regina sensed his shift in mood, and her chin lifted as if in challenge.

“Give them to me. Right here, on the table, Jefferson, and don’t try anything cute, or I swear to god I’ll run you through.”

Jefferson laid the items on the table without hesitation.

“There. You have your spoils, now let me go to her. I promise I’ll turn myself over to you after.”

“Oh, I know you will.”

He kept expecting her to strike, but to his surprise, she stepped aside. Jefferson was so intent on Y/N that he failed to notice her triumphant sneer.

“Y/N,” he breathed her name as he gathered her limp body into his arms.

She was cold and lifeless, and Jefferson realized that for the first time, he couldn’t hear her heart beating. He swallowed a sob and bent to kiss her, praying that for once, Regina was telling the truth.

His lips were inches from hers, when his eyes caught the flash of something moving behind him, right there in the polished metal of the autopsy table.

Jefferson dropped Y/N’s body and twisted, seconds before Regina plunged the stake into his back. The pointed shaft grazed his bicep, tearing a swath of fire down his arm.

They grabbled for the stake. Jefferson’s hands were like vices around Regina’s wrists, and he shoved her away from the table, away from Y/N. Regina screeched as he tore the stake away. Her blood red fingernails clawed at his eyes, and Jefferson was momentarily thrown backwards by the fury of her onslaught.

He hurled back into a side room. This one was dustier, dingier, and smelled unpleasantly of charred meat—the incinerator room. He scrambled up as Regina advanced, the stake once again in her hands.

“I should have killed you all those years ago, Jefferson. You’ve been _nothing_ but a thorn in my side for a hundred years.” She held up the stake and slowly walked towards him.

Jefferson’s blood was boiling with rage. He knew he couldn’t beat her in a fight, but he’d do his damnedest to take her with him. At least, that’s what he thought until his back hit against a long, thin handle.

The emergency release lever for the incinerator chamber.

“I’m going to kill you, Jefferson, but not before you watch her suffer. I’m going to paralyze you first, and you’re going to watch it all.”

_A few more steps, just a few more…_

“She’ll be cursing your name before I’m done, cursing the day she met you…before you watch me rip out her beating heart, right in front of you.”

Regina took the final step, a look of triumph on her face as she pressed the stake against his chest, just shy of its mark.

Jefferson threw the handle and the door sprang open, the heat from a thousand hells hitting them both. Regina’s eyes widened in horrified understanding, right before Jefferson planted his boot in her midsection and kicked as hard as he could.

Regina flew backwards into the inferno. Jefferson scrabbled for the door, latching it shut and leaning against the handle. He grit his teeth as the witch flailed against the door, her death shrieks ringing in his ears.

He held it until the room was silent, and there was nothing left but ash.

Jefferson coughed and brushed at his singed clothes as he stumbled to his feet. A few dozen steps and he was at Y/N’s side, and this time he didn’t hesitate.

His lips crashed into hers and his heart cried out feeling her soft skin so cold and lifeless. Jefferson kissed her again, deeper, and he wept in relief when she drew a breath.

Her eyes fluttered open. “Jefferson? What…”

“It’s over, love. It’s really over. She’s dead.”

Y/N took in his sooty appearance, looking from him to the incinerator in a daze. She let out a sob and he pulled her into his arms, nearly crushing her with his fervor. Her lips found his.

The two held each other for a long time, letting the weight of the past few days wash over them as they lost themselves in each other’s embrace.

Right there, in the basement of the morgue, where it all began.

Jefferson pulled back and caressed her cheek lovingly.

“Come, darling, let’s go home.”

***

You leaned back in Jefferson’s arms and watched the potion brew. It was nearly ready.

You felt absolutely horrible for taking such a risk, especially when you saw his appearance. His eyes were wide with terror, his clothes singed and soot smeared on his face. The long gash on his arm had completely healed once he’d fed, but you hated to think that a drop of his blood had been spilled on your account.

Jefferson had constantly reassured you. “It wasn’t your fault, love, how could you have known? Even I didn’t think the she-devil could survive a fall like that.”

Mrs. Conrad huffed. “And of course no one thought to ask me…burning or hanging, that’s the only sure-fire way to kill a witch.”

Jefferson scowled at her, but you took his hand.

“No, she’s right. I should have said something.”

“You just wanted everything to be ready for tonight, Y/N, there’s no fault in that.” Jefferson’s lips tightened in a sad smile. “Once again, you were thinking only of me instead of your own safety.”

“It’s really over now?”

“Yes.”

You curled into his chest. “I love you, Jefferson. I’m so sorry I left. I’m sorry I scared you.”

“Don’t.”

Jefferson gently tilted your chin up, capturing your lips with his. He moaned as your lips parted. The kiss was quickly becoming heated, when Mrs. Conrad cleared her throat loudly.

“If your both quite through, we’re ready.”

Jefferson slowly pulled back, his impossibly blue eyes flicking back and forth between yours. You could feel how nervous, how excited he was.

You both were.

“Jefferson, it’s time,” Mrs. Conrad called again. “Hurry it up, boy, we’re on a bit of a schedule here.”

Despite her harsh tone you could hear the underlying concern. This was an exceedingly difficult potion to brew, and there was no guarantee _what_ would happen once Jefferson drank it. You both stood, and walked up to the bubbling cauldron.

“Only one last ingredient left, Jefferson, and that’s a bit of your blood. Shouldn’t take much.”

Mrs. Conrad stepped back. Jefferson squeezed your hand and released it. You watched as his fangs sank into his own arm, and held it over the roiling liquid. It was dark and viscous, smelling strongly of sulfur and earth. Blood ran down Jefferson’s arm and dripped into the cauldron.

The second it hit the potion there was a bright flash, and all three of you stepped back, Jefferson pulling you behind him instinctively.

“Yes, well, I think that’s done it,” he said.

His eyes were wide, and you could feel him trembling. You were afraid for him, but this was what you’d vowed to help him do. What he always wanted—to be human again.

You just prayed it would work.

Mrs. Conrad poured a healthy ladleful of the potion into a glass. It now glittered with an earie luminescence, not looking nearly as sinister as it had moments before. Your stomach heaved, though, when you remembered what some of the ingredients had been.

Jefferson looked at from the glass to you, his eyes sparkling. His hands came up to cup your face, and he pulled you in for a deep kiss that packed behind it every ounce of emotion he felt for you. It was passionate, it was desperate, and it left you breathless.

“I love you, Jefferson.”

“I love you too.”

His eyes roamed your face one more time as if committing it to memory, and you realized he was just as scared as you were. With a nod, he took the proffered cup from Mrs. Conrad. He stared at it for a moment, then downed the contents in one go.

Nothing happened.

Then he gagged, and you quickly took the glass from his hand.

“Jefferson, are you—”

He briefly shook his head, silencing you. A hand reached out to grip the counter tightly. He moaned and clutched his stomach.

“Jefferson!”

You lunged forward as his legs gave out, catching him before he could fall and carefully lowering him to the floor. He was gasping for breath, gripping your arm tight enough to leave bruises. Frantically, you looked to Mrs. Conrad. She was as white as a sheet.

“Talk to him, Y/N. Talk him through it. The book said the transformation would be quite painful.”

“Why didn’t you tell him?!”

“Best not to know of the unpleasantness beforehand,” she said. “If anything, it only makes it worse.”

Jefferson cried out and clutched his chest, his fingers digging into the skin. He fell heavily against you.

“It’s okay, love, it’s gonna be okay…I’m right here. I’ve got you.”

He was shaking uncontrollably. You held him tighter, as if by doing that you could take away his pain. Through the bond you could feel his fear and you murmured to him, soothing words to let him know you were still there.

A low keening sound in the back of his throat quickly built into a gut-wrenching scream. Then, like a puppet whose strings had been cut, Jefferson’s eyes rolled back, and he collapsed.

***

It was dying down now—the fire. He was faintly aware of a hard surface at his back, and beyond his closed eyelids there was light.

When the potion had been at its height, Jefferson hadn’t been able to think, let alone see anything. All he was aware of was pain beyond all comprehension and the sound of Y/N’s voice. If it wasn’t for her, he felt as if he might have truly gone mad.

His body was infused with light. Just as the fire had tarnished his soul with its flames, now it healed it, driving out the darkness with blinding light. Pins and needles turning into a thousand stabbing knives, as what was once dead was brought back to life. Dimly, he was aware he was screaming, yet he felt as if he couldn’t make a sound. He couldn’t breathe, he couldn’t move. His body was not his own.

And then it suddenly stopped. Jefferson stopped, only this time he was surrounded by light.

He opened his eyes.

What should have burned him was comforting, and he felt warmer than he had in years. He looked down, expecting to find his clothes smoking or something, but no—they were as clean and as tidy as the day he bought them. Jefferson frowned as he brushed his fingers down the fabric, then he looked around.

The landscape had shifted and dimmed a bit, and he saw trees. Not just any trees—it was the glen where he had played with his daughter, all those many, many years ago. Movement caught his eye, and Jefferson stood up.

Someone was walking towards him.

“G-Grace?”

It was. Five years old and as pretty as a picture, her long hair spilling down in golden curls that caught the light. She was wearing her long, red traveling cloak, and she carried a basket of wildflowers in one little hand. She smiled at him.

“Hello, Papa.”

Jefferson let out a sob and fell to his knees as she ran to him. He pulled his daughter into his arms and held her tightly, not bothering to stop the tears that began to flow.

“Oh, Grace…my beautiful girl. How I’ve waited for this—god, how I’ve missed you.”

“I know, Papa…I know.”

Jefferson buried his nose in her hair, feeling its silky smoothness and breathing in the scent of her, still so familiar to him. Grace smiled and touched his face, and he saw that she was crying too.

“I’m so, so sorry, sweetheart. I’m so sorry I left you. I-I didn’t want to, but I had to—to keep you safe. I made a horrible mistake, and I lost you.”

He let out a shuddering breath and tucked a lock of golden hair behind her ear. “I never forgot you, Grace, not once. I never stopped loving you.”

“I know, Papa. I’ve been watching you.”

The smile fell a little from Jefferson’s face, and he looked at the trees around him. “So this is…I’m…”

Grace laughed. “Just visiting, Papa. You’re just visiting.”

She climbed into his lap, just like she used to when she was a child. Jefferson held her and rocked her, humming an old nursery song. Grace nuzzled into him.

“How long do we have?” he asked softly.

“Not long. There are people waiting for you.” Grace looked up at him seriously. “I’ve had a long and wonderful life, Papa. I never once thought you abandoned me—I knew you’d never do that. I never stopped loving you, either.”

Jefferson kissed her forehead as the tears started again.

“It’s okay, Papa. It’s your turn now. She’s waiting for you down there. You still have a long life ahead of you if you want it.”

“I do,” he said. “I love her, Grace. Very, very much.”

She smiled and caressed his cheek. “I know. Please be happy Papa, I’ll be waiting for you when it’s time.”

Jefferson hugged his daughter, committing every inch of her to memory. He tenderly kissed her cheek and whispered against her skin.

“I love you, Grace.”

Grace held his face in her tiny hands and smiled once more, before she stood on her toes and kissed his forehead.

“I love you too, Papa.”

The second her lips touched his skin, Jefferson felt himself falling backwards, down and down with dizzying speed. The light faded. A great whooshing sound was heard, and his limbs felt heavy, his back once again pressed against a cold stone floor.

Jefferson gasped, and opened his eyes.

***

“Jefferson!”

For a few horrible seconds he didn’t move, and your world came crashing down around you. The he gasped, his eyes flying open and latching on yours.

“Y/N?”

“Oh my god—”

You threw yourself into his arms, shuddering in relief when his own wrapped around you, holding you tightly. Hot tears fell onto your cheeks, and he smoothed a hand through your hair.

“It’s all right, I…I’m okay…I’m better than okay, I’m—”

Jefferson cut off suddenly, and you stared at him. He frowned and pressed a hand to his chest, sitting very still for a moment before his eyes went wide.

“Jefferson, what’s wrong?”

He grabbed your hand and held it to his chest, staring at you.

You gasped.

A heartbeat, strong and steady beneath your hand.

“We did it, Y/N. It worked. I’m…I’m human again.”

He smiled at you, his brilliant blue eyes crinkling with happiness. You pulled him into a kiss, smiling against his lips as you felt his heart start to beat a little faster. Jefferson laughed and wiped the tears from your eyes.

He helped you up. Mrs. Conrad was smiling too, looking like the cat who ate the cream.

“I always knew you had it in you, my boy. My grandmother saw it from the start.” She pulled him into a very uncharacteristic hug. “I’m so happy for you both.”

As she let him go, you smiled seeing the tears in the old woman’s eyes. She laughed self-consciously and dotted them with a handkerchief.

“Well, don’t just stand here on my account,” she said, waiving it at you both. “Go! Off with you both!”

You laughed as he drew his arms around your waist. “Well, mister, what do you want to do on your first day as a new human?”

Jefferson hummed and traced your jaw. “What I want, is to walk outside and kiss you senseless in the sunlight, my dear.”

The sun was indeed coming up, just peeking over the horizon. Jefferson took your hand and led you to the front door.

The world outside was winter white, the ice crystals of the night’s frost glistening in the morning light. It looked as though the trees had been painted with diamonds. You stepped out onto the front porch, smiling as the sun warmed your face.

Jefferson stood there for a moment with his eyes closed. He breathed deeply, seeming to soak up every last ray as the sun inched higher. He looked like an angel. His eyes opened, finding yours.

He stepped forward, drawing his arms around you once more. His lips grazed your jaw, making you sigh as the old familiar heat began to build. You murmured his name as he softly kissed his way up to your lips, parting them with his tongue. You moaned.

“I intend to kiss you like this each and every morning for the rest of our lives, my dear, so you’d better get used to it.”

Your eyes blinked open, realizing what he just said.

“I mean it, Y/N. I want to spend the rest of my life with you, if you’ll have me. I want to court you and romance you, and then I want to marry you and start a family of our own.”

You exhaled sharply and nodded, momentarily at a loss for words. Jefferson’s eyes flashed and he smiled.

“I love you, Y/N. Thank you. For everything.”

His body was warm against yours and his breath soft on your face, his eyes fluttering closed as his lips found yours again. You pulled him closer, feeling his heart’s steady rhythm against your chest. He was right there. Alive and real, and yours.

“I love you, Jefferson. In this life, and the next.”


	10. Chapter 10

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Chapter Warning: Fluff!
> 
> Series Warnings: 18+, Smut, Graphic Violence, Blood/Gore, Blood Drinking, Light details of an Autopsy/Medical Procedure, Angst, Fluff

**October 31 st, 2020 – Halloween Eve**

“Trick or Treat!”

Three sets of gleeful eyes peered up at Jefferson, and he chuckled.

“Oh my, how delightful! Let’s see…Alice in Wonderland, the White Rabbit, and…my goodness, are you the Mad Hatter?”

The boy blushed, but he beamed proudly. “Yes, sir, he’s my favorite.”

Jefferson chuckled as he dropped the candy in the children’s bags. He leaned down and whispered loudly to the child in the Mad Hatter’s costume.

“He’s my favorite, too.”

Jefferson was laughing to himself as he closed the door and set the bowl on the stairs. You peeked your head in out of the kitchen and he walked in.

“This has been great fun, it’s a shame they didn’t have something like this when Grace was little. I could just see her, the little hellion, hopped up on a sugar high and running down the boulevard in her costume.”

You smiled. Jefferson had told you everything that had happened during the transformation, including his “trip” to see Grace. You were so glad that he’d finally gotten the closure he needed. Now he was able to speak of her with happiness instead of sorrow and regret.

He came up behind you, wrapping his arms around your waist. A sizzling kiss to the underside of your jaw, and he nipped the sensitive spot. You moaned softly and twisted, searching for his lips greedily.

Jefferson’s hands drifted down to your thighs and he lifted you, setting you on the counter. The sound of his name murmured from your lips drove him further, lustful kisses trailing down to your collarbone as his fingers inched up your thigh, slipping under the hem of your sweater. He grinned.

“You naughty little thing…if you only knew what you do to me.”

“You’re not sick of me yet?”

Jefferson snorted and kissed you hard, as if to prove it. “Never, darling. I’ve waited a century for you, I just didn’t know it until I met you.”

“One year ago, tonight.”

“A kiss that set my soul aflame,” he said, licking at your lips. “You bewitched me then, Y/N, body and soul…and you still do.”

The doorbell rang, interrupting his sinful exploration of your mouth. You growled. Jefferson hummed and nipped your jaw.

“Duty calls, my dear.”

He pecked you once more on the lips, then went to answer the door. Still reeling from his attentions, you turned back to the sink. As you dipped your hand back into the soapy water, a pair of rings glittered from your left hand.

You and Jefferson had made it through approximately two months of “courting” before he broke down and proposed. Your parents had been surprised, but Jefferson was nothing but a charmer and a gentleman, and they approved wholeheartedly. The wedding had been beautiful, held right there in Storybrooke.

From there, you traveled. Taking a leave of absence from work, you’d seen the sights and done the things Jefferson had only dreamed about, after years of wandering lost and alone in the darkness.

Jefferson was like a new man unleashed upon the world. His enthusiasm and stamina were unparalleled, and you had never felt quite so alive. In truth, you’d felt like you’d been asleep your whole life, reborn and awakened the moment you’d bonded with him.

Your life since then had been happily domestic. The spark you felt for him that first day had turned into a raging inferno that time hadn’t dampened one bit. Jefferson doted on you, spoiling you with displays of his affection while still encouraging you to pursue what made you happy. He lifted you up, gave you confidence, and you loved him all the more for it.

You still worked at the morgue. In fact, Dr. Whale had retired a few months ago, promoting you to Chief Coroner. The hours were infinitely better, allowing you to finally shift to a normal work schedule. Jefferson had decided to open up a small used bookshop in town, right across the street from Granny’s. It did a fair trade, and most of all, he was happy.

Mrs. Conrad hadn’t stayed on too much longer after the night the curse was reversed. Other wayward souls to guide, she said. You had both begged her to stay—the mansion was huge, but she refused to hear it. She still visited from time to time, although she also said she hardly needed to check in—you had Jefferson well in hand, according to her educated opinion.

“Well, that’s the last of them, I imagine…it’s getting quite late,” Jefferson said, interrupting your thoughts. He turned off the porch light and blew out the jack-o-lanterns decorating the steps. His brow furrowed when he saw the look on your face.

“Y/N? Are you all right?”

You smiled at him as you dried your hands. “Perfect, love. I was just lost in thought…everything that’s happened in the past year.”

“Yes, it is a bit dizzying when you think of it like that.” He tenderly rubbed his thumb across your cheekbone. “Come, sit with me by the fire, I want to cuddle with you.”

“Okay, just let me go change first.”

As you changed out of your jeans and sweater, you smiled. It was that soft, inward smile that all women get when they’re carrying a happy little secret.

You pulled out the ultrasound picture, and held in in your trembling hand. The other rested against your abdomen, and you bit your lip in excitement.

Your first appointment had been today—you and Jefferson had been trying for a few months, and although you got the initial confirmation a couple weeks ago, you’d kept it from him until you could be absolutely sure. You didn’t want to get his hopes up.

Carefully tucking the ultrasound back in the envelope, you bounded down the stairs where the love of your life was waiting for you. Jefferson was stretched out on the couch, his hair a little rumpled and the top two buttons of his collar undone. He grinned playfully and patted the empty space next to him. You wanted to devour him right on the spot, but first…

You slid in next to him and held up the envelope. “Trick or treat.”

Jefferson took it, frowning. “Darling, what’s—”

For a moment, he just stared at the picture, and the only sound in the room was the crackle of the fire in the hearth. Then his eyes widened when he realized what it was.

“Is…is this…are you…”

You nodded, smiling as your eyes burned. “I’m pregnant.”

“H-How long have you known?”

“I’m about eight weeks…I wanted to make sure everything was okay before I told you. I didn’t want to get your hopes up. I’m sorry, Jefferson.”

“Don’t be, I’m just—god—I feel like I can’t breathe, I’m so happy!” He laughed, taking your face in his hands and kissing you. “I don’t know whether I’m going to cry or faint, or both!”

“Please don’t,” you laughed. “Just kiss me again.”

He hummed and did as you asked. Your forehead, your cheeks, the tip of your nose and the curve of your jaw, nothing went untouched by Jefferson before he finally settled his lips against yours in a wildly passionate kiss that nearly incinerated you on the spot.

Finally he pulled back, resting his forehead against yours and looking at you as if you were the most wonderous creature he’d ever seen. Gently, as if you were made of glass, Jefferson placed his hand flat against your belly, feeling the subtle curve there.

“So…everything truly is all right, then? _You’re_ all right? And…th-the baby? They made sure?”

You nodded smiling at his concern. “Everything is coming along just fine. I even got to see the heartbeat today. If you come with me next week you can see it for yourself.”

Jefferson nodded. He looked over at the picture of Grace on the side table, and his lips twitched in a bittersweet smile. When he looked back, you were startled to see the tears starting to brim his eyes.

“Sweetheart, what—”

Jefferson shook his head, his bottom lip quivering as he kissed you again. “You’ve given me another chance, Y/N. Another chance to live, to be happy, and now…a chance to be a father again. A chance to have a family with you.”

He pulled you into his arms and nodded to Grace’s photograph. “I know she’s looking down on me, and right now, she’s smiling. I can feel it.”

“Oh, Jefferson.” Your own eyes were starting to burn.

He pulled you even closer and kissed the palm of your hand, settling it over his heart.

“You’ve made me so very happy, Y/N…I’m the luckiest man in the world, to be able to call you my wife. I love you, my darling girl.”

“I love you too, Jefferson.”

Outside, the last of the ghouls and goblins ran back home with the spoils of another Halloween as the former vampire and the coroner curled up together in front of the roaring fireplace, lost in each other’s embrace. They had their whole lives ahead of them, and Jefferson was truly free at last. Free from the demons of his past and the curse that bound him to it, free to live, free to love, and free to start a family with the woman he loved more than life itself.

And so they lived, happily ever after.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: Thank you so much for reading, and for all the wonderful comments and kudos! This was a lot of fun to write, and I’m sorry to see it end--I loved these two! Thank you again for all the support!!!

**Author's Note:**

> Comments and kudos are welcome and appreciated, thank you for reading!  
> You can find me on Tumblr @constantwriter85
> 
> Posting Schedule: Every Tuesday 8am EST


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